


One More Beautiful Lie

by caelestislux



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akuma Possession, Akumatized Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Aromantic Alix Kubdel, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Blood and Injury, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Episode: s01 Le Dessinateur | The Evillustrator, Gay Marc Anciel, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, Lesbian Chloé Bourgeois, M/M, Marc Anciel has Social Anxiety, Mental Breakdown, Miraculous Holder Marc Anciel, Multi, Nathaniel Kurtzberg Has ADHD, New Ladybug Miraculous Holder, Non-Canonical Violence, Post-Episode: s01 Le Dessinateur | The Evillustrator, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Social Anxiety, Temporary Character Death, might change to mature depending on later content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestislux/pseuds/caelestislux
Summary: We all know that in the episode "The Evillustrator", Ladybug and Chat Noir successfully save Chloe from an early death, defeat the villain, and restore peace all over Paris. That they made sure no one got seriously hurt.But what if they didn't?What if one of Evillustrator's spinning blades did hit and kill Chloe? This sets off a chain of events, causing Nathaniel to undergo trauma from the various pieces he knows, becoming the perfect pawn for Hawkmoth to re-akumatize time and time again, and for Marinette to feel like a failure, prompting her to temporarily give up the Ladybug miraculous to someone that she knows can take on Evillustrator once and for all.Someone who already cares very deeply for Nathaniel Kurtzberg, despite never having spoken to him.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chloé Bourgeois & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Chloé Bourgeois/Sabrina Raincomprix, Marc Anciel & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Tikki, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 64
Kudos: 54
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	1. The Fall of Ladybug

**Author's Note:**

> Title credits go to Ignite by Alan Walker and K-391, as well as the lyrics at the end of each chapter. Lyrics added because they're relevant...
> 
> Hey! This is an idea I've been musing over and working on for a few months, and I'm excited to start sharing it. There will be a lot of references to mental illness and the like, so if those topics come up and could be possibly triggering I'll add a warning in the opening notes. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This occurs right in the fight scene at the end of the Evillustrator episode, fairly self-explanatory. This is also the chapter where part of the warnings come into play, specifically the death and violence. If you want to read but would rather skip those bits, there will be a quick summary of events at the end.

“Look out!”

Those were Chat Noir’s last words before being whacked in the head with a newly drawn boxing glove that had appeared from thin air. Or rather, from Nathaniel’s—now the Evillustrator’s—pen. He fell to the ground, muttering something unintelligible. 

Ladybug turned back to the akuma. She could hardly picture the same akuma who’d just gone on a very sweet date with her no more than an hour ago. Hell, she could hardly picture Nathaniel Kurtzberg’s kind visage. Now he was hardened with anger and hatred and Hawkmoth’s influence, all mixing together to form something much more twisted and evil than she’d expected could possibly have once been her sweet classmate. 

His pen pressed against the tablet.

Unspoken words ran through Ladybug’s mind, demands and questions and even an apology for her justified actions she knew in her heart would take a while for Nathaniel—or the Evillustrator—to recover from. She’d betrayed him, and as much as it needed to happen, the guilt still remained.

But her words died on her lips as _actual buzzsaw blades_ appeared right in front of him.

She dodged, twirling her yo-yo to bat the blades aside. Evillustrator grit his teeth, watching the blades bounce against the wall harmlessly. Ladybug turned back to him, staring him in the eye, ready for more projectiles until she could find a way to step closer to steal the akuma's pen—

And a sharp scream pierced the night.

Ladybug turned back to Chloe Bourgeois, only to double over in horror. Blood pooled on the floor around the body of the mayor’s daughter, the offending blade tossed aside carelessly. Blond hair stained with red . . .

A gash cut across her body, darker crimson than Ladybug had ever seen before. 

Her stomach turned, breaths becoming rapid at the sight. Fury clouded her vision. She whipped back around to face the Evillustrator. To his credit, he seemed equally shocked by this outcome; his eyes widened, blinking a few times in rapid succession. But his confusion didn’t last long, fading into a sharp laugh. Not a pleasant one, one filled with shock and horror and relief all at once.

“Y-you—” Ladybug attempted, but her voice faltered when she stared right at the akuma standing a few feet in front of her. He’d hardly moved, but it was as if he was a completely different person. Someone who’d actually killed someone else. _Violently._

A staff tossed through the air like a javelin whacked Evillustrator on the head. Reeling backwards, he fell against the wall, clutching his head. And within seconds, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. 

Chat Noir met Ladybug’s eyes. He’d just woken up. He hadn’t seen what happened.

Shaking with every step, Ladybug walked towards the front of the room and picked up the pen, which had dropped from the Evillustrator’s hand when the staff hit him. She snapped it in half, releasing the akuma. She caught it and purified it, releasing the white butterfly into the room, where it faded through the wall into the sky. 

And now for the moment of truth, the moment where she was going to test if her powers could cure everything. It could fix injury. Could it fix death? Chloe’s blood still staining the floor brought her to hurry it up, just so she wouldn’t have to _think_ about it any longer—

_“Miraculous Ladybug!”_

The swarm of red bugs engulfed the room, leaving behind no trace of the projectiles that had been drawn. Several clustered around the Evillustrator, and— _finally_ —others clustered around Chloe’s body. And then they swept away to cure the rest of the city. 

Ladybug took a deep breath, not daring to look, not wanting to see the scene that she’d failed to prevent. Her hands shook in fists. Her mask of professionalism started to slip away.

“What the _hell?”_

Never before had the sound of Chloe Bourgeois’ voice been so wonderful.

When Ladybug turned, she was met with the mayor’s daughter scrambling to her feet with her hands in fists, her expression twisted into a grimace, her cheeks bright red. Her clothes and the floor were clean, as if nothing had happened at all.

She marched right up to Ladybug, pointing a finger right at her face. “He _killed_ me!”

“Chloe—”

 _“No, it’s my turn!”_ Chloe sniffed, and that was when Ladybug noticed that a couple tears were forming in the other’s girl’s eyes. She’d been _crying?_ “I know you’re a superhero, but you just _let_ him kill me? You didn’t _try_ to stop him? _He’s a monster and you let him do whatever he wanted!”_

_“M’lady—!”_

Both girls turned at the sound of Chat Noir’s voice. And Ladybug’s heart dropped in her chest when she saw Chat’s arm around a shaking Nathaniel Kurtzberg, who’d just heard everything.

They didn’t usually like to tell akuma victims what they’d done under Hawkmoth’s influence. And the ones that had been akumatized so far seemed to find it better not knowing, besides the few news clips and articles on the Ladyblog and such. And maybe barring Timebreaker, none had really killed anyone before. Definitely not brutally like this. 

And now that Chloe had ranted so openly, Nathaniel knew. 

He knew everything.

And they had no idea what that would do to a person, but it couldn’t be good.

 _“You!”_ Chloe cried, brushing off her clothes and walking up to Nathaniel. Her face filled with fury and fire and an overbearing attitude that sent the artist backing up against the wall as her heels clicked on the floor. _“You killed me!”_

Now inches away from Chloe’s face, Nathaniel stammered, “I-I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t tr—it was Hawkmoth—”

 _“No, you little piece of shit! You killed me!”_ She whipped out her phone, her breaths heavy and her eyes still filled with fire and tears. “I’m going to call Daddy and have him tell the whole city what you did! Then we’ll see how sorry you are!”

“No, _please!”_ Nathaniel choked on a sob. 

Ladybug stepped in with, “Chloe, hold on a second—”

The heiress whipped around, taking in a sharp breath when she saw the superheroine. “No, Ladybug! I’m done listening, I’m done putting up with this shit. You just let the akumas toss me around like nothing, huh? You let them _kill_ me? No more, Ladybug. I’m getting Daddy involved.” And with that, the mayor answered the phone, she started to sob to her father how traumatized she was. Which may have been true, but Nathaniel—

“Is she telling the truth? I _killed_ her?”

Nathaniel’s soft voice had jarred the two heroes out of their pseudo-trance. His eyes clouded with sorrow, his hands shook as he bent and cracked his knuckles as a sort of distraction. Even after the events that had transpired, he didn’t seem like a villain. Just hurt.

And Ladybug loathed it, but she wasn’t going to lie to him.

* * *

_Fireflies, a million little pieces  
Feeds the dying light, and brings me back to life_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick summary: the moment where Chloe nearly gets killed by one of Evillustrator's buzzsaw blades in canon actually happens, she's resurrected by the miraculous cure, and she tells her father, horrifying Nathaniel over what he'd done and the ramifications.


	2. The Rise of the Evillustrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mild references to depression.
> 
> This might also be the last short-ish chapter, lol.

_“And we’re currently receiving word that no charges will be pressed against the individual_ — _identity to remain anonymous due to being a minor_ — _who was previously known as the Evillustrator. Murder via akuma possession has been ruled as the fault of Hawkmoth, not the individual being possessed. More information will come as soon as we hear. Thanks Alec, back to you in the studio_ — _”_

Nathaniel clicked off the TV.

He hadn’t spoken a word since arriving at home, hadn’t texted his mother, hadn’t attempted to spend the rest of his birthday doing anything positive. No, this day had been a shitshow from start to finish, and he was the center of it all. 

No one had remembered his birthday. Not even Marinette, the best friend to all and his secret crush. Well, his former secret crush. 

And when he’d been akumatized, it apparently had taken several turns for the worse. Much like how Alix described it, he could only remember bits and pieces of being akumatized, not the whole thing. But he very clearly remembered Marinette ripping his pen from his hand, tossing it to Chat Noir, breaking his heart. Apparently she’d given some indication that she actually liked him like that. God, he was such an idiot for even considering the possibility. 

Then he remembered tossing blades at Chloe, not actually trying to kill her, just trying to scare her. But he didn’t remember actually doing the deed, just waking up in a cold sweat and shaking violently, hearing how much of a monster he’d become. And apparently his excuse of being possessed wasn’t good enough for anyone, not even himself, so he really had no one to blame but himself.

He checked his phone. Filled with texts, a couple more pouring in, all nasty messages pertaining to what had happened. Looks like Chloe had given his number out. Thankfully most of his friends hadn’t sent anything, but some of the students from other classes, people who had no idea what it was like to be akumatized, sure knew how to agitate him with their words.

_“You’re heartless.”_

_“How could you do such a thing?”_

_“You’re a monster.”_

Damn. 

His mother still hadn’t gotten back from work. Could he take a walk? 

Not too much later, Nathaniel found himself walking along the bank of the Seine, lost deep in thought. Hell, he’d hardly remembered getting out here, leaving his home. But now that he was here, he had time to think. To reflect.

He walked onto the bridge. Something seemed strangely familiar about this. Had he been here as the Evillustrator? The whole thing was so unfamiliar and absurd to him that he struggled to piece together what he remembered as fact, what was his anxiety gone wild, and what was like a hazy dream that he couldn’t recall the details to . . .

The water sloshed underneath the bridge.

He glanced up, but the bright lights around in the surrounding buildings drowned out the sky and the stars. It clouded his vision, driving him to take a seat on a bench, resting his head and mind. He flipped his pen between his fingers mindlessly, bouncing his leg. 

“Hey kid, you okay?”

Nathaniel glanced up to see a runner, jogging in place while he waited for the artist to give him an answer. His face was twisted in a mask of concern, even from little of him could be seen in the dark. But Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to respond, couldn’t let the words form on his lips. Because he wasn’t okay. And he didn’t know how to express that.

“Well, uh . . . get home safe.” The runner gave a half-hearted wave, then ran off.

Nathaniel didn’t even realize he was still aware of anything going on until he felt tears forming and trickling down his cheeks. Shit, he was crying. He never cried in public, not even when he was bullied. But now . . .

Even after his akumatization, even after his rejection, he had never felt this hopeless.

Elsewhere, Hawkmoth was about to pack up for the night. That is, until he sensed . . . _something._ It started as a pinprick in the back of his mind, bothering his thoughts as he made his way to the door. 

A snow white butterfly landed on his shoulder.

There was a strong emotion. No, not just strong, overpowering. _Debilitating._ This emotion was absolutely driving him mad just by existing, sending him spiraling into thoughts of actually succeeding, actually bringing back his beloved. Who was this person in so much pain? Why not let himself have a second chance on the same day as his earlier akuma? This could finally be the one that would help him reap his reward. 

He cupped the butterfly in both hands, letting the power of transmission flow through it. Turning it as hard and hateful as the hearts of those he akumatized. And when he released it, the purple and black demonic creature flew out into the night sky.

Making a beeline for the Seine, for a particular bridge with a particular person . . .

The butterfly disappeared into Nathaniel’s pencil once again. He didn’t even flinch.

The wave of emotions flowed freely, nearly sending Hawkmoth reeling backwards. But when he got over the initial shock, something about this sadness, this shame and humiliation and hatred, seemed . . . _familiar_. 

And then he placed it.

This was the same boy from before.

_“Evillustrator, I am giving you a second chance. Right your wrongs, and get revenge on those who dared to cross you and torment you. But you know that this gift comes with a price: you must bring me my reward.”_

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses.” Nathaniel barely murmured.

_“Exactly. But you are one of my most powerful akumas, so you should have no issue getting them. With your immeasurable skill in the arts, nothing should be able to stop you from fulfilling your goals.”_

Nathaniel clutched the pencil in his hand. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“You can count on me, Hawkmoth.”

* * *

_In your eyes, I see something to believe in_   
_Your hands are like a flame, your palms' the sweetest pain_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


	3. A New Hero Emerges

_“We’re getting reports that the Evillustrator is back, causing havoc_ —”

Marinette turned from the TV, facing the window. Nathaniel hadn’t been at school that day, but this was why? He was akumatized again? Everything within her stomach twisted and turned with the thought of facing him again. His eyes, cold and hard with the knowledge that he’d killed the very person driving him to akuma possession, stared at her from the TV’s reflection in the window. Taunting her. Laughing at her.

Well, she’d show him. She was going to wipe that stupid smile off his face—

“Tikki, spots on.”

And Ladybug stepped to the window, ready to throw it open, ready to run out as she always did and take on the villain. 

But when she got to the window, images flashed like a strobe light through her mind. Her head pounded like a jackhammer. She failed. She failed and now she was forced to live the consequence of seeing it all again, _Chloe on the floor, the gash on her side, the blood, oh god the blood . . ._

And she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do anything. 

Frozen in fear, she watched the news recordings of the Evillustrator’s mayhem until she couldn’t bear to look any longer, couldn't stand to see the results of her own gross incomptence. So she’d attempt to go to sleep, praying that he’d get de-akumatized on his own, despite knowing it was impossible. But she was kept awake throughout the night, tossing and turning and trying to get those damn images out of her mind. And when she finally woke up to Nathaniel’s desk at school being noticeably empty, the whole cycle started again. 

And again.

Which is why on the third night after, she found herself transformed, sitting on top of one of the taller buildings and staring out into the sky and the clouds. There was one coherent thought on her mind, and she had to talk it through with her partner as soon as possible. 

“I can’t do this, Chat.” were her first words when he arrived. “I can’t be Ladybug any longer.”

He tilted his head slightly, nocturnal eyes widening. “I'm sorry, m’lady?”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t want to fail you anymore than I wanted to fail Nathaniel, or even Chloe. I should’ve been able to stop him. I should’ve been more responsive to the attacks of a new villain. And now he takes over the city every night, and every time I try to make up for my mistakes, I just . . . _can’t_.” With a sharp sob, she leaned against his arm, letting the cool night air brush across her face.

“I was wondering where you were.” he told her, stroking her hair gently. “So what did you want to do?”

She glanced up to look at him. “You—you understand?”

“Sure. I still get flashbacks sometimes.” And with that, his eyes turned somber, still smiling but not without something like regret. “You remember our first fight with Stoneheart, right? Remember how I almost used my cataclysm on him?”

“But—but you didn’t.” 

“But I almost did. And I’m lucky that I tried it out on that football net first. What if I could use it twice or unlimited times? Ivan Bruel would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault.”

This was the most serious she’d heard him in a long time. Was it really just a few days ago that he was standing to the side, using stupid art puns while she first took on the Evillustrator? She’d never realized that he thought so much about their first fight, and of course she remembered, just not like that. But he never was the type to let her give up so easily on things like this.

“I bet you’re going to try to convince me to try again, to stop the Evillustrator because it’s my duty to the city and all.” she told him, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of her tone. Because that’s exactly what had happened with Stoneheart, that she’d wanted to give up being Ladybug and he didn’t let her. 

“You’re half right.” He stretched out his hand, adjusting his clawed gloves. “I don’t think you should give up being Ladybug permanently. But Evillustrator is . . . tricky. He’s probably the most powerful akuma we’ve ever had the displeasure of fighting. And if you keep seeing _things_ when you try to fight him . . .” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I could give the earrings to someone else.”

Chat Noir turned sharply. “What?”

“Not permanently, of course.” she added hastily. “I want to be Ladybug. I just don’t think that we can take Evillustrator down like we took the others down. He’s not like the others.” She thought for a moment, picturing both the sweet boy who took her on a date and the monster that murdered Chloe. “He’s cunning and emotional. He doesn’t work with brute force.”

“He’s looking for love.” Chat murmured. “Too bad he didn’t find it.”

Something struck her then. Chat Noir was right, Evillustrator _was_ looking for someone to love and to be loved by. But he wasn’t going to find it with her. And he definitely wasn’t going to find it by running and rampaging around the city. Still, there was someone who could help, someone who already knew of Nathaniel and would want to help him.

Someone who might be willing to temporarily take over.

“I have an idea.” she promised.

And then she ran off into the night.

Marc Anciel glanced up at the sharp pound on the window. 

His shades were shut, allowing his panic and anxiety to run wild. Was he about to be murdered? With that akuma running rampant around the city at night now, there was honestly no telling what it could mean. But what would the akuma want with him? Cautiously, he crept towards the window.

And with a sigh of relief, he recognized Ladybug standing on the other side. He unlocked the window immediately and slid it open, letting the red and black spotted heroine into his bedroom. She glanced around, hardly noting his mess of pencils littered across the desk and dresser, the clothing haphazardly thrown on the floor, or the makeup stains and smears all over his carrying case and mirror. In fact, the only place that wasn’t a disaster was his wall, with everything from his pride flag to some of Nathaniel Kurtzberg’s art from the school website tacked to it.

“Thanks, Marc.” she said, her voice a lot different than her usual upbeat, “the city is safe” attitude. Marc wracked his writer brain for the term that would best describe it. Tired? Exhausted? On edge? 

_Defeated_.

“H-h-how do you k-know who I am?” Marc stammered, sinking into his desk chair.

She sighed. Taking a seat on his bed, she ran a hand through her hair, mildly upsetting her signature pigtails. “Look, I don’t really have time to explain everything, but I do have a serious question to ask you. Well, more like a favor.”

“S-sure.” Marc rested his head in his hand, watching her every movement carefully. She definitely seemed off. And he still wasn’t fully sure how she knew him or where he lived, but as of right now, his head was just overwhelmed with the fact that one of the heroes of Paris was in _his room_ , talking to _him_. “What did you need?”

“Marc Anciel, I—” But her tone cut off again, and she pressed a hand against her forehead, taking a deep breath. “God. I’m sorry, I’m not doing good at this. I guess I’ll just be honest with you about this . . . I can’t be Ladybug for a while.”

“W-what? Why?” Marc clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking.

She sighed again. “I know I’m a failure. I didn’t stop the Evillustrator from killing Chloe Bourgeois, and now the mayor hates me and Chat Noir. And Hawkmoth’s still akumatizing Evillustrator, and I just—I can’t. I keep seeing flashbacks from what happened . . .”

“Why . . . why are you telling me this?” Marc asked, genuinely intrigued.

“I can’t tell you until I—oh, forget it. Tikki, spots off.”

Marc shielded his eyes as the room filled with bright red light, enveloping and engulfing the heroine. When the light faded and he looked back at her, he shoved himself back against his chair in shock. Where Ladybug was a minute ago now sat Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of his best friends.

“M-M-Marinette?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I know, this is a lot to unpack.”

But to her obvious surprise, Marc shook his head. “No, the more I think about it, it makes sense. I’m not sure how I didn’t realize before, but I guess I’ve never seen you and Ladybug in the same room or anything, and you do keep disappearing during akuma attacks.”

Really, the few times he'd seen her running from the attacks, he'd just assumed that she was terrified of the akumas. But being Ladybug made so much sense. They had the same cornflower blue eyes, the same light blue hair, the same sort of mascara and lip gloss. And Marinette was so brave and sweet, it just made sense. Marc honestly just couldn't fathom that he hadn't figured it out before.

“Oh. The magic that protects my identity must’ve just broken.” She glanced up at Marc’s wall, the one full of Nathaniel’s art. “I like your pictures.”

“You know I didn’t draw those. Marinette, don’t change the subject, why are you here?”

“Okay. You know Nathaniel Kurtzberg, right?”

Marc glanced down at his notebook, actively ignoring her gaze. He knew his cheeks had turned at least a little pink at the name of the cute artist he’d been pining over for a little bit. But it was clear that Marinette wasn’t here to talk crushes, even ones he was really trying to get over. “Yeah.”

“He’s the Evillustrator.”

Now at this, Marc’s head shot straight up. “The _akuma?”_

“Yeah. The akuma. And he . . .” She took a breath, keeping her eyes downcast. “Like I said, he killed Chloe Bourgeois. She got brought back, but now he’s freaking out and remaining akumatized, and it doesn’t help that she’s in hysterics about it.”

“So what do you need me for?” Marc adjusted his posture, drumming his fingers on his legs.

Marinette closed her eyes for a moment, face contorted in a light disappointment. In herself? In Marc? Wherever she was going with this, it really wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have.

“I was wondering . . . would you be willing to borrow the Ladybug miraculous and help Chat Noir? You’re different than me, and I feel like you’d be able to connect with the Evillustrator a lot better than I could. In a way other than just fighting and outwitting him.”

Marc’s heart plummeted in his stomach.

_No._

No, he couldn’t.

Somehow he’d known that she was going to ask that, but only in an unconscious way. Really, he hadn't wanted to confront that reality. Didn’t want the question to leave the hidden parts of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at doing this. I’m really pushing you, aren’t I? And that’s not fair. This isn’t even common for miraculous holders, I just . . .” She inhaled sharply, dropping her gaze. “I just don’t want to let everyone down again. I keep doing it, and it’s all my fault—but I can’t stop seeing _it_. It's not Nathaniel's fault, but it's just . . . thinking about seeing Evillustrator, it brings back those thoughts. And I didn’t know where else to go . . . Alya maybe, but the Lady Wifi thing just happened, and I—I really do believe in you, Marc. But you don’t have to say yes. In fact, the way I proposed the idea . . . I’d be surprised if you did.”

No, he couldn’t do it.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. Well, he didn't. But he wanted to help.

Still . . . he was nothing like her. Nothing like Ladybug.

Piecing together the separate images of Marinette and Ladybug into one was still proving to be a challenge for Marc, so he stopped bothering to try. Instead, he focused on how his friend Marinette was so much bolder and braver than him, _perfect_ for the role. He had anxiety, hated confrontation, and a whole other host of reasons that made him the least likely person to be Ladybug properly.

Then again . . .

Marinette _was_ the clumsiest and most accident-prone person he knew, in the nicest way possible. And she was apparently a _superhero_. Could Marc really be like that? Not someone in the shadows, someone who made a difference? Someone who made the city safe again? It seemed like the miraculous would give him some kind of power to be bolder and braver, to be able to withstand all the things that would annihilate Marc as he was. Which was a good thing. If Marinette trusted it, so did he.

And on top of all that, it’d probably give him experience for his writing.

“I’ll do it.”

Marinette blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

_“Tonight?”_

Nodding, Marc grit his teeth. Just until the Evillustrator was defeated, just for one time, just one night. He’d be helping, both his friend and the boy whose art he watched with rapt attention. And all of Paris too. God, that sounded like so _much_. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, thank you so much, Marc! I’ll call Chat Noir and we’ll help you out with transforming and all that. I appreciate it, I _really_ do. Just give him a couple minutes—” And then she was on her phone, choosing a number and letting it ring as relief seemed to wash over her.

But Marc didn’t have that relief, quite the opposite actually. What had he gotten himself into? What was she really asking of him? He understood that she’d seen something that she wasn’t even willing to tell him, something that plagued her mind whenever she tried to stop the Evillustrator, but did he sign up for too much? It’s not like this was an adult asking something of him, it was his friend, _his peer,_ who sometimes went too far in trying to complete her goals.

Oh well. He couldn’t go back now.

* * *

_Let the darkness lead us into the light_   
_Let our dreams get lost, feel the temperature rise_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not attempting to make Marinette look "right" or "wrong" for what she's doing. Giving up her miraculous temporarily isn't the only path she could've taken, but it's the one she chose under the circumstances and under trauma, and now the consequences, good or bad, will occur. Adrien too, and maybe Marc. They're all just teens stuck in a horrible situation and are reacting with all the emotion that would come from it. 
> 
> That being said, hopefully you all enjoyed the longer chapter! Some will be longer and some will be shorter, just by the nature of the fic.


	4. The Hero and the Villain

All too soon, Chat Noir knocked on the open window. “Ladybug?”

Marinette re-emerged from the hallway, now wearing one of Marc’s red hoodies and a surgical mask. It wasn’t that convincing, but to be fair, Marc knew that her identity was still protected by the magic of the miraculous that she’d mentioned earlier, rendering her unrecognizable. “Hey, Chat. This is Marc Anciel, he’s going to take over for me.”

“I heard.” Chat Noir regarded Marc for a moment. “You two look so similar.”

“Yeah, I've heard that before.” Marinette tightened the strings that held her hood tight, glancing to the side periodically as if afraid that Marc’s parents would walk inside any moment. But they wouldn’t, and Marc knew that. They hardly gave him the time of day anymore, much less walked into his room at random. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have pride flag up. “Should I introduce him to Tikki now? I’ve never done this before.”

Marc noted with interest that she was talking like Ladybug, not Marinette: bold, insistent, and almost taking on a leadership role. So maybe it wasn’t just the magic of the miraculous. Maybe she could just “turn it on and off”. 

“That sounds good to me.” He winked at Marc. “You ready?”

_No, he wasn’t._

“Yes.” he lied. 

Marinette pulled the hoodie back a bit, and a small creature the size of a mouse flew out. It was like a giant bug, one the size of his hand with large eyes and a nice, comfortable smile. Marc blinked. He’d been through a lot in the past hour, but it seemed like the universe wasn’t done throwing him curveballs yet.

Again, maybe it’d help with his writing?

Then again, this superhero stuff was supposed to be secret, so maybe not.

“Tikki, this is Marc.” Marinette explained. Apparently, she’d already explained everything when she was changing in the hallway, so the bug-thing nodded understandably. Marc just blinked again. 

“Hi Marc!” she chirped happily. “I’ve been told so much about you!”

Marc waved, a smile plastered on his face. “Uhh . . . hi.”

Marinette coughed, drawing everyone else’s attention towards her. And once Marc looked over, she put out her hand and opened her fingers, where the earrings that would become the Ladybug miraculous sat. “Marc Anciel, this is the Ladybug miraculous, which grants you the power of creation. Do you promise to use it to the best of your abilities and serve the greater good?”

Marc took the earrings from Marinette’s outstretched palm. “I do.”

“So, to transform into your Ladybug form, you’ll just say my name, and then _spots on!_ ” Tikki explained, hovering right by Marinette’s head. They were close friends, from what Marc could tell. Then again, this was all kind of a rush, so surface-level thoughts like that might’ve been fairly random. “And then they’ll explain the rest!” Marinette and Chat Noir exchanged a look, nodding.

“Okay.” Marc uncapped the earring backs and put them in his ears, silently thanking himself for having gone through an emo phase where he wanted to get his ears pierced. This still didn’t feel _real_ , like some kind of out-of-body experience. But even if it was all just a dream, he was sure as hell going to do what dream-Marinette had asked. “Now?”

Marinette smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Just say the words!” Tikki added.

Marc took a breath. This was it. This was the moment that would solidify this was really happening, not just a strange dream. 

“Tikki, spots on.”

A strange feeling took over his body, spreading down his arms and legs. Shoes seemed to form around his feet, and his belt shifted, suddenly wider and now had something hanging from it, As if out of control of his own body, he reached up and pulled the hood over his head, then swiped a hand along his eyes, letting a mask form behind his fingertips . . . 

When the pinkish light faded, Marc froze and looked down at himself, then let out a squeak. His outfit had been transformed from his usual jeans, tie-dye shirt, and hoodie into a sort of bodysuit. He glanced in the mirror. His hoodie had become a thinner, skintight material, while his pants had become leggings and his boots grew taller and pointier. The right half of his hoodie and leggings were red, while the left were black, with alternating spots. His right boot was black, while his left was red, and the same was true for his gloves. His belt was divided, red on the left and black on the right, and now had a yo-yo attached to it. Only his bangs were visible, lightly hiding the mask that looked identical to Ladybug’s covering his eyes. His thin sheen of lip gloss had turned black.

“Nice!” Marinette exclaimed, making Marc jump. He’d forgotten there were other people in the room, much less anyone to judge what his subconscious had apparently come up with. Then again, the hood and boots were comfortable, hiding his appearance enough that he was sure he wouldn't be recognized even with the magic Marinette had mentioned, so for once he wasn't too self-conscious. “That looks cool. Okay, are you ready for the rundown on your powers and everything?”

Marc nodded, taking a deep breath. He pressed his lips together.

This really was it. He was really doing this.

  
  


The cold night air stinging his skin, Marc leapt from rooftop to rooftop, stumbling with a loss of balance that Chat Noir didn’t seem to have. But the feline hero’s encouraging words and smiles beat back his anxiety, at least a little bit. 

Marinette was waiting back at her house, and she told him he was welcome to stop by afterwards and give her the earrings. But that seemed so far away, as did leaving the comfort and safety of his room to head into the crisp January air to follow Chat Noir across the buildings. Marc, not one who particularly feared heights, still wasn’t confident in his ability to swing through buildings on just a yo-yo string, so he opted to run along the roofs and jump over the spaces between, much like Chat Noir did. Except he had a staff . . .

This was still an absolutely wild decision.

What could’ve possessed him to want to do this?

His friendship with Marinette, Marc reminded himself. She was struggling, and he decided to help his friend. With something extreme, yes, but still help.

“Here.” Chat Noir remarked, sending Marc screeching to a halt, nearly tripping over his own feet. How did Marinette do this? She was _far_ more clumsy than he was! Still, he was able to stop where Chat had, hidden behind a chimney and watching something in the distance.

Sure enough, on the roof of the nearby KIDZ+ TV station building, the evil artist that Marc had seen in news broadcasts and the like was pacing around, alternating between gesturing wildly and erasing random pieces of nearby buildings and other architecture. This had been going on for quite a bit now, as the streets were littered with noticeable debris. There was no rhyme or reason to his actions, just movements born of an anger that seemed to never satiate. 

“That’s him.” Chat Noir whispered, stating the obvious. He seemed nervous too.

Marc nodded. “Just get in, defeat him, and get out?”

“Be careful, though.” Chat advised. “Seriously. The suits protect you from most things, but one of his spinning blades might catch you. And good luck, Marc. If m’lady trusts you, I do too.” His lips edged into a smile. 

“Who’s there?”

Marc’s breath and courage escaped him at the akuma’s voice. It _was_ Nathaniel—well, sort of. His voice was deeper, with a slight edge to it that sent chills down Marc’s spine. He adjusted his hood, sending a glance over at Chat Noir, who simply just shrugged. 

So without answering and filled with a short burst of confidence, Marc took a running leap. Strands of his hair whipping in his face, he flew through the air for a moment, closing his eyes to avoid the sting. And all too quickly, he landed with a thump on the other roof, causing him to reel backwards a bit. He took a breath.

Then he glanced up, only to come face-to-face with the Evillustrator.

It was one thing to see the news broadcast about him, as his akuma design was almost cool-looking, with his paintbrush-looking hair swept to the side, his bodysuit that looked like pen lines wrapping around his arms and waist, his deep teal eyes offset by the butterfly mask imprinted in his skin. But now, at night, his appearance was more than unnerving. It was deadly.

“Who the hell are you?” Evillustrator demanded.

Marc stepped forward, duo-toned boots scraping against the floor with all of his resolve to _not_ approach the villain, to _not_ put himself in danger. But he was Ladybug now, and he had a mission. And that mission involved doing exactly the thing he feared most. So he took a second step, then a third.

“I’m Ladybug.”

Evillustrator snorted a laugh. “No, you’re not.”

 _Keep it together, Marc. Don’t let him know you’re afraid._ “Well, I am now. The original Ladybug is, uh, taking a break, and now I’m taking her place for a bit. So I hope you don’t _mind—_ ” 

“Whatever. It’s not important to me.” Evillustrator brushed his hair to the side, casting a derisive glance back at Marc. “I’m not dealing with Replacement-Bug. If you know what’s good for you, then fuck off.” And then he started to walk away.

Marc jogged to catch up with the artist. “But—” 

Clearly the idea that someone would actually want to continue the conversation didn’t cross the Evillustrator’s mind before now. Hearing Marc’s painfully loud footsteps, he whirled around, an expression of horror mixed with disgust and shock fixed on his face. “What part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand?”

“B-but you’re an akuma! I have to stop you.” 

Marc regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Why, oh why did he say that? God, not only did he look like an idiot, but he sounded like one too. Now Evillustrator would never take him seriously, and neither would anyone else. He wanted to just die on the spot.

Evillustrator stopped upon hearing what had been said. He straightened his back, turning his head slightly to face Marc with a scowl plastered on his face. “What did you just say?”

“I-I just m-meant—”

He heard the sound of the pen against the tablet before he saw it.

Something lit up in Marc’s senses, begging him, _pleading_ with him to dodge to the side. And he did, narrowly missing a large boxing glove being thrown in his direction. Shakily, he straightened his body, only one thought repeating in his mind, wondering why Evillustrator didn’t use a blade that time . . .

“So like I said.” Evillustrator muttered, glaring at Marc. “Fuck off.”

“No.” Marc pushed himself to step forward again, back into the Evillustrator’s direct line of sight. The artist’s face only grew more cold when he did, but Marc wasn’t giving up, _wasn’t going to let Marinette down_ — “Please, listen.”

 _“Shut up.”_ And that was another boxing glove that Marc had to sidestep. He glanced to the back, noting Chat Noir’s presence with a nod. At least he had backup. At least he wouldn’t have anything—

A whole host of projectiles appeared in front of Marc, sending him stumbling backwards. In the corner of his eye, he saw Chat Noir running towards the Evillustrator, likely going to defeat him any way he possibly could. But Marc’s attention was diverted, focused on letting the projectiles miss him if at all possible. He barely was able to duck underneath a whole wooden crate.

A scream echoed throughout the roof. 

The floor where Chat Noir was standing had been erased, causing him to plummet. He’d be fine, _Marc knew it,_ but he stood staring in rapt horror as the one person who could possibly save him from the villain mere meters away fell several stories.

“And now—you.” Evillustrator hissed, moving forward towards Marc. 

The writer grit his teeth, stepping backwards as he kept his eyes on the villain. The pen in his hand seemed to taunt Marc, almost teasing him that he’d never get it. And he knew he wouldn’t. 

Another boxing glove nearly made contact, Marc twirling the yo-yo and sliding sideways to miss it by mere centimeters. He gasped for air, eyes meeting Evillustrator’s, inadvertently daring him to do his worst. His hood whipped around his face.

The villain’s lips formed a smile. 

His pen touched the tablet.

Survival instincts taking over, Marc scrambled further backwards, breathing picking up speed, mind blank. He just had to avoid the quickly forming . . . _spears?_ Yeah, that’s what they were. He clenched his teeth, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

Step, step, step. 

He ducked, slid to the side, all the while inciting Evillustrator’s wrath. And he could see it on the akuma’s face, with his sneer and narrowed eyes. His walk was even, long strides that hardly seemed possible with Evillustrator’s short stature. Marc stared at him, stared so long that he didn’t register that the akuma was getting closer until they were _close_. Only about a meter away, and still striding closer.

One particularly nasty spear nearly got Marc from the side, causing him to duck. His foot caught a rock, and he stumbled backwards. Where there should’ve been brick was now open air. 

He’d found the edge of the roof.

Flailing wildly, Marc’s outstretched arms searched for something, _anything_ , to catch his fall. Thoughts of death flashed through his mind, and he wondered if his suit would save him from a plummet this high. Probably not. And he’d ruined everything just by _not watching where he was going_ —

And then something grabbed his hand and pulled, hard.

Marc blinked, exhaling as his feet reunited with solid ground. His hand, still being held, was now in a death grip, but at least he was safe. At least he wasn’t a splatter on some Parisian street. Reveling in his newfound appreciation for life, he glanced up to see his savior.

And nearly choked.

The Evillustrator’s face was mere centimeters from his.

“If you’d just _listened_ to me, maybe you wouldn’t have almost _died_. Think about that?”

Marc said nothing, just stared with eyes frozen wide open.

“Thought not.” Dropping Marc’s hand, he threw his pen down in disgust, then began stomping to the other side of the roof. “Take the damn akuma. I don’t care.”

Gingerly picking up the pen from where it’d been dropped, Marc opened his mouth to say something. But no words came out. He couldn’t think of anything to say that would even make sense, much less anything useful. 

It’d hardly been a second before the pink glow and butterfly mask surrounded Evillustrator’s face, causing him to turn back to Marc and flick his eyes upward in disgust. “Fine Hawkmoth, I’ll be back tomorrow. But I’m tired and need a break. Don’t you worry, my emotions won’t get better.” He glanced back at Marc. “Purify the akuma before he controls my hand again.”

Nodding, still unable to speak and mildly confused at what the akuma meant by “controlling his hand”, Marc snapped the pen in half. The purple and black butterfly flew out of it, but before it could get away, Marc caught it in the yo-yo. And out fluttered a white one.

Without a lucky charm, Marc tossed the yo-yo in the air. _“Miraculous ladybug.”_

The swarm of red ladybugs that the citizens of Paris had become accustomed to flooded the area, righting all the wrongs caused over the course of Evillustrator’s reign of terror. Quite a few surrounded the villain himself, leaving an unconscious Nathaniel Kurtzberg behind. 

Someone tapped on Marc’s shoulder. He jumped, breath catching, but it was only Chat Noir. 

“I’ll help him get home.” Chat whispered, gently motioning towards Nathaniel.

And the fear that had run through Marc’s veins remained, rendering him unable to move as he clutched the yo-yo in his hands, staring into space at everything and nothing. The wind whipped his hood around his face.

But Marc was still in for another curveball.

When Chat Noir helped Nathaniel to his feet and started to help him towards the elevator, the artist had glanced backwards. He’d seen Ladybug’s replacement standing there. And sensing someone’s gaze on him, Marc looked as well, green eyes meeting bright teal. And upon seeing Marc, something in Nathaniel’s gaze had become . . . strange. He’d winced, turning his head down with his lips pressed together and flushed cheeks. 

Even as a writer, Marc wasn’t too good with body language.

But he was almost certain that Nathaniel remembered him from being akumatized.

_And maybe remembered saving him._

* * *

_Baby, tell me one more beautiful lie_   
_One touch and I ignite_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Ladybug Marc design - https://caelestislux.tumblr.com/post/632923381677932544/ladybug-marc-for-my-fic-on-ao3-one-more-beautiful
> 
> I promise it's relevant and important that his suit (sort of) looks like Reverser, it just won't be apparent for a while! Stick around for that, lol.


	5. In The Daytime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for homophobia
> 
> This chapter's transition stuff, but parts will be important later too.

“I was awful.” Marc sobbed, clutching one of Marinette’s pillows to his chest. “I didn’t fully defeat him, and now he’s going to destroy everything, and it’s all my fault—”

“Relax, Marc.” Marinette placed a light hand on his arm. “You’re okay.” 

“B-b-but . . . I screwed up!”

She sighed, reclining backwards on her bed. “Marc, it's not your fault, I shouldn’t have put you in such a dangerous situation. This was my responsibility and I should’ve been the one out there tonight. I'll take the earrings back. At least you got his akuma, right?” She offered him a hopeful smile, but he was anything but hopeful.

“Yeah, because _he gave it to me!_ And he says he’ll be back tomorrow.” At this point, Marc was certain of his failure and couldn't be stymied simply by his friend’s words. “Of course I couldn’t do it, I don’t know why you even picked me! I’m useless!”

“You're not useless.” Marinette said gently. “I’ll defeat him tomorrow. Okay?”

And upon hearing that, something sparked in Marc’s mind.

No, he wasn’t going to give up. Just because he’d had a bad run didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to complete his task, the task that his friend had _needed_ him to do for her. He didn’t want to put her through that again. 

He had been asked to do something. And not completing it fully was letting everyone down. Marinette, Nathaniel, Chat Noir, _all of Paris_ . . .

“No, I’ll do it. You asked me to, I’ll do it.”

Marinette blinked. “Marc—”

“Look Marinette, I know that I wasn’t any good. But I’m going to do better this time. I’ll come up with a different plan, that way I’m not being the definition of insanity. You know, doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results? And I’ll do my best, even if it takes me a while.”

“You can’t!” Now it was Marinette’s turn to be hysterical, sitting straight up and clasping her hands together. “Marc, that was a one-time thing. And I guess I wasn’t really in my right mind, turning over my duties like that. I was worried for you!”

“I was fine.” he lied. Because there was no way she’d let him go unless she believed it.

“No, you weren’t! You told me you almost died!” Tikki flew next to her, having finished eating a macaron. “Look, just because the Evillustrator saved your life doesn’t mean that he’ll do it again.” She paused, looking him dead in the eye. “Marc, I was forced to go on a date with him as Marinette, and when I tried to help Chat Noir defeat him, he tried to drown both of us out of anger. And Chloe—”

“I’m not Chloe. And I’m not planning to go on a date with him.” Marc muttered, casting his eyes downward. He hadn’t known about the date, but that could be unpacked later. “Just give me a chance, _please?_ I want to help you, Marinette. I don’t want you to fight someone who’s hurting you.” He paused, taking a breath. The faintest snippet of an idea rushed through his mind. “And I think I can get through to him.”

Marinette was silent for a moment. 

Then she leaned forward and hugged Marc tightly.

“Thank you.” she whispered. “Just until you defeat the Evillustrator, okay?”

Marc nodded. “Okay.”

She released her grasp on her friend, then turned back to Tikki. “That’s okay, right? I’m not breaking any important rules of having a miraculous? I’m still so new to all this . . .”

Tikki nodded, smiling. “As long as you’re willingly letting him use your miraculous, and it’s temporary. I’d be so sad to see you go! But I’ll stay with him until you can be Ladybug again.”

“I’ll miss you, Tikki. But it’ll only be until Evillustrator’s gone.” Marinette pulled out her phone again. “And I’ll be sure to let Chat Noir know. That way he’s not in for a shock when he sees Marc.”

Before Marc left, Marinette wrapped up some cookies for Tikki and handed him the box with the miraculous inside. And with her parting words, she made sure to tell him, “The thing to remember is that Hawkmoth wants the miraculous. So whatever your plan is to defeat Evillustrator, make sure he doesn’t get near your earrings.” 

Marc felt his heart drop. He didn’t have a plan, not yet.

But he’d get one.

After leaving the Dupain-Cheng bakery, he walked along a quiet side-street. A few minutes of strolling in silence later, Tikki flew out of the fold in his hoodie, apparently confident in her ability to be left unseen.

“I know it’s a lot for one day,” she told him, “but I think you did very well!”

Marc shook his head. “No, I didn’t. He got away.”

But to his surprise, Tikki said, “I know, but you saw how he reacted when you almost fell! I don’t think this akuma’s like the others. And I’m confident that you’ll be able to stop him.”

Marc watched the faint stars twinkle, fuzzy from the aura of city lights. What if Evillustrator hadn’t caught him? He’d be injured, possibly dead. So why? Why would a villain spare someone like that? Did Nathaniel still like Marinette, and if he did, then why did he try to drown her? Too many questions. The lights and fading stars blurred in his vision.

“Thanks, Tikki.”

Finally, Nathaniel Kurtzberg was back in school.

A noticeable shift had taken over the classroom, spreading across the school eventually until everyone stiffened and became quiet when Nathaniel walked past. He would occasionally flick his eyes upward, only to go back to staring down at his shoes. He never became upset, though. Never said a word to any of them.

If someone happened to catch a glimpse of him when he was distracted, they could be forgiven for thinking that everything was normal. He would draw in his sketchbook, his expression blank, humming and sketching lightly with a pencil. However, if the unfortunate person got closer, Nathaniel would flinch sharply, eyes wide and body frozen like a deer in headlights. 

Still, Marc wasn’t in Nathaniel’s class or anything, so he wasn’t planning to see him. He’d just been told by Marinette, who regretfully informed him that Nathaniel was ignoring everyone and staying silent throughout the whole morning, so that probably meant that Marc would indeed have another encounter with Evillustrator. It was upsetting, but what could Marc do? He didn’t know Nathaniel. And he didn’t know anything he could do that would help.

So instead, he focused on the night before. Now, in the light of the day, it all seemed weird and distant, like a hazy dream. Had he really done all that? Nearly fallen and died? Why did he agree to such a thing? But he knew the answer to the last one. And he knew that he’d be going back.

At the end of the lunch break, Marc rounded a corner, only to hear the shout of one of the boys who’d bullied him for a while. He’d grown accustomed to it until he’d become boring enough to not be their prime target. He was used to their assholery, their mocking him for being feminine and gay, but after a while they'd moved on to someone else. And Marc was about to just ignore them, making sure to stay far out of their way, when he heard another voice.

“Please—” And there they broke into a sob. “I just want my sketchbook.”

Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

Images of the night before flashed through Marc’s head, and as tired and afraid of the bullies as he was, he couldn’t stand hearing the person who he did really care for in so much pain. The fact that Nathaniel had come back to school at all was a miracle, and this was a terrible way to begin it, especially since Evillustrator had been so certain that his mood wouldn’t improve. What if Evillustrator returned _now?_ And as soon as Marc heard a light sob, he reacted on impulse. He turned the corner to see the usual group of bullies surrounding Nathaniel, who was backed up against a locker and clutching one of his arms against his chest like he’d die if he let go, head tilted downwards.

Marc stepped forward, his feet moving faster than his brain could. 

“Give him the sketchbook.”

The bullies turned, expressions matching masks of surprise. Adam, the biggest one who always seemed to be the unofficial leader, stepped forward with a malicious grin forming on his face. “Anciel.”

“Yeah.” Marc pressed a shaking hand against his jeans. “Give him the sketchbook.”

Another of the boys spoke up, “Aww, Anciel! Got a little crush or something?”

Marc bit his lip. He should’ve expected that.

“Just give him the sketchbook.” Marc couldn’t hide the wavering in his voice any more than he could hide that he really didn’t want to be there at that moment. He resisted the urge to pull his hood over his head. “He didn’t do anything to you.”

“No Anciel, he didn’t.” Adam smiled, his teeth way too white. A smile like a predator. “But he did something to Chloe Bourgeois, one of my close acquaintances. _He murdered her._ He's working with Hawkmoth, you know that?” He laughed. “You're both _fucking disgusting._ ”

Marc gulped, his throat burning. Why, oh why did he think he could do anything? Their taunts were as bad as ever, and he wasn't helping in the slightest. He winced, clutching his arms to his chest as one of the other boys spat a slur towards him, causing the whole group to laugh once more. 

And then, like a godsend from heaven, the first bell rang, thoroughly jarring everyone as if waking them up from a trance. Nathaniel glanced up, tearstreaks staining his face.

“Fuck it.” Adam spat, letting Nathaniel’s sketchbook fall to the floor, scattering papers and sending drawings flying across the hallway. “This shit isn’t worth it. Especially when he’s a fucking _murderer_.”

And with that, Adam and the other boys disappeared down the hallway.

Marc wiped the sweat from his shaking hands onto his jeans. God, he hated those boys.

Nathaniel’s voice broke the still silence. “Thanks.” 

Marc could picture the same voice, darkened and deeper but still obviously belonging to the artist, chewing him out for nearly dying the night before. Laughing at his insistence that he was Ladybug’s replacement. Ordering him to purify the akuma.

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Of course.” Marc bit his lip again, suddenly uncomfortable. He was never good at speaking to people he didn’t know well, and this was the _guy he’d fought with last night._ Not to mention, his crush, but that had probably gone out the window with all that had happened. “I’m Marc. Marc Anciel.”

“Nathaniel. Nice to meet you.” Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to the side, his hands suddenly tense. “I’m not actually working with Hawkmoth.”

“Oh! I know.” Marc assured him. “My friend Aurore—she got akumatized, and . . . it’s not anyone’s fault.” _Wow, what a wonderful speech._ Because Nathaniel would _definitely_ love hearing just how much Marc knew about being akumatized just because his _friend_ had been. That wasn’t insensitive or anything. Time to break the tension that threatened to implode. “Anyway, I believe you.”

Nathaniel smiled, only slightly. “Thank you. Everyone's been saying things . . . I'm really glad someone listened to me." His expression darkened. "I'm really sorry that they said those things about you, though. They're just assholes, but still . . . are you okay?”

“I'm okay. Thanks, though. They're just . . . yeah.” Marc bit back anything else he could’ve added, bending down to pick up the various papers scattered across the hallway. Nathaniel joined him, but Marc hardly noticed, focused on the content of the papers that had spilled from the sketchbook. The drawings weren’t new, it seemed, as many featured Marinette, while others were of Evillustrator before he became Evillustrator, similar to the ones posted online. “I like your drawings.”

“You do?” When Marc glanced over, Nathaniel was staring at him, his face beet red.

Marc nodded, as if the more he nodded, the more he could convince Nathaniel that he was being honest. “Yeah. They’re beautiful, just like the ones you posted online, but even better.”

If possible, Nathaniel’s cheeks got redder. “You’ve seen my drawings on the website?”

Well, if Marc could’ve died on the spot, he would’ve been begging to. 

The second bell rang then, reminding Marc exactly where he was, and that he was going to be very late and have to come up with some sort of excuse so that Mme. Mendeliev didn’t give him some kind of talking-to. He was one of the students she favored, but he wasn’t going to push that. “Right! I have to go. See you later, Nathaniel!”

And even after he took off, he turned quick to glance back at the artist, hoping to see just for a second that Nathaniel wasn’t crying or anything. That having at least one positive interaction had helped, maybe even preventing Evillustrator’s return.

What he hadn’t expected was Nathaniel looking back at him.

* * *

_Like a starship speeding into the night_   
_You and I get lost in the infinite lights_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


	6. Little Talks

“Good luck.” Chat Noir whispered.

Here it was, Marc’s second chance. He’d attempted to find the courage to fully take on the role, making his way there by the string of his yo-yo and meeting up with Chat Noir like it was nothing. And here they were, sitting on a rooftop, under the bright moon, watching Evillustrator again. He looked more bored than anything this time, clearly waiting for the arrival of the heroes with bated breath. He paced around, occasionally firing projectiles off the side of the roof he was on.

Marc nodded, unable to even muster a response. Why was he doing this? Just so that he could prove himself? For Nathaniel? He wasn’t cut out to be a hero, he knew that, but if he could just do it, just this _one time_ . . .

“You’re back.”

Those were Evillustrator’s first words upon seeing Marc. His grin widened, but not in a comforting way. Like he was excited to see Marc just to utterly humiliate him again. Marc felt bile rise in his chest, and he tried to bite it back.

“So.” Evillustrator mused, placing the hand of his tablet arm on his hip. He searched Marc’s face, though god knows what he was looking for in the first place. “You’re going to go and defeat me now?”

“No.”

And the shock evident on Evillustrator’s face hardly compared to the shock now running through Marc’s mind and body, turning in horror over what his response had been. _No?_ What did he mean by _no?_ Wasn’t that supposed to be his job? But even as he stood there in turmoil over having given such a strange response, underneath he knew what he’d meant. Now to make his unconscious plan work . . .

“No? _No?”_ Evillustrator flicked his gaze around, having momentarily lost his edge. His hardened eyes were wide, his lips parted in sheer surprise. “What the hell are you talking about? I thought you’re supposed to be the replacement _hero_.”

“I am.” Marc clasped his gloved hands together. “I just want to talk.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that’s not a bunch of bullshit. Totally different than when Marinette promised she’d go on a date with me, pretended to actually _return my feelings_ , and then—” He cut off, free hand balling into a fist. “Look, I’m _not_ here to talk.”

“That sounds frustrating.” _Why, oh why_ was Marc talking to him like a therapist? _This wasn’t his job, this wasn’t his job, this wasn’t—_ “All I want to do is talk to you. Are you okay with that?”

 _“No?”_ The akuma seemed mystified by Marc’s request.

“It would just be for a few moments, then you can get back to whatever you were doing. I won’t even stop you from giving that building some new architecture.” He glanced pointedly over towards the nearby building with clean eraser swipes down the sides. “Please?”

Evillustrator glanced to the side as well. “Hawkmoth won’t want me to—”

“And you’re listening to him?” Okay, Marc must’ve died and moved on to an afterlife where he was bold and brash and said things he never would’ve otherwise. How else did he explain this sudden attitude shift? “I thought you were your own person.”

“I am, he just—” The artist’s face took on a hardened look, lips pressed tightly together as he stared Marc in the eye. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Evillustrator turned, stalking towards the wall by the door that led to the penthouse roof. He scribbled something on his tablet, causing a fancy, ornate couch to appear. He then took a seat and beckoned Marc over. “Coming?”

Marc approached the couch with a sense of trepidation. He was still having a conversation with a villain, after all, and reluctantly at that. “It’s not going to trap me and give you the chance to steal my miraculous?”

“Oh shit, that’s a good idea. But no.”

Marc took a seat as close as he dared to the artist, watching the other’s every move. Making sure that he didn’t mess with his tablet even the slightest. Now that he’d gotten closer, he could ignore the sense of dread and danger that being around the villain caused, along with a sense of—what? Despair? He really needed to get a thesaurus.

“Talk.” Evillustrator flicked his pen between his fingers. 

“Uh, okay.” Marc adjusted his posture, feeling massively uncomfortable. He became painfully aware of his hood itching the sides of his face. “I don’t have anything in particular to say. I just thought that you might want someone to talk to.”

The artist glanced upwards. “What makes you say that?”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“I guess I didn’t.”

But when he didn’t say anything else, Marc glanced over to see the akuma’s face. He wasn’t upset, nor was he angry, but rather quiet and contemplative. So different from the images and quick sightings Marc had seen of him. Almost like Nathaniel. Or how Nathaniel had been earlier that day.

“So, _did_ you want to talk?” Marc prompted. 

Evillustrator shrugged. 

“I heard you went on a date.”

No more than a split second after the words had left his lips did Marc realize just badly he’d messed up by even bringing the events up. Of course he’d heard of what had happened, but that was probably the last thing that the Evillustrator wanted to remember. Not that he’d forgotten.

The artist turned sharply, his eyes ablaze with a fury that sent Marc cringing backwards. _“Who told you?_ _Marinette?_ Or wait—Chat Noir?”

“Chat Noir.”

That’d probably upset him less. Marc knew he personally would be horrified to hear if the person he went on a terrible date with was spreading gossip, even if that was obviously not the case.

The Evillustrator relaxed a bit, adjusting his posture. Confirming Marc’s thoughts. “Fine. Okay. It was supposed to be for my birthday, not like a date-date. No one else celebrated my birthday . . . I thought she liked me . . . you know, like more than a friend. But she tried to trick me—” He sighed. “I hate being tricked or lied to.”

“I’m sorry.” Marc murmured, twisting to face the akuma. “I really am.”

Evillustrator hardly moved, still staring out into the bright lights of the city far below. His eyes were glossy. “Thanks. Though, I don’t suddenly give a shit about you if that’s what you’re trying to accomplish.”

But he did, and he didn’t know it. Otherwise, how was Marc supposed to explain the way that he’d been saved the night before? Also, the way that Nathaniel had reacted earlier when he got his sketchbook back? Sure, he didn’t know that Marc and the new Ladybug were one and the same, and he wasn’t sure if Nathaniel remembered things that Evillustrator did. But still.

“Hey, happy birthday.”

Evillustrator pressed his lips together, still not turning towards Marc. “Thanks.”

Marc nodded, watching the villain with rapt attention. He was almost relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the pen in his hand. His posture wasn’t intended to scare any longer, with him sitting with one leg resting on the other and his shoulders relaxed. It was almost as if he’d just given up on being a villain. Or maybe he was just . . . what was that word Marc had thought of before?

In despair.

“What do you want? If you could have anything.”

Evillustrator finally glanced over, eyes widened and hands frozen. “Huh?”

Seeing him shocked like that again was near amusing, but Marc didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he adjusted himself so he was facing the villain, looking into his dark aqua eyes. His hands shook slightly. “Like, every akuma wants something, right? What do you want?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses.”

Marc resisted the urge to cover his earrings. “No, I mean besides that.”

“Besides that . . .” Evillustrator tapped his pen against his chin, turning to stare off into the sky. The wind lightly blew through his hair. “I don’t know. Revenge? Why are you asking me this?”

Marc didn’t answer right away. Mostly because he didn’t know why he’d asked. It just seemed like the right thing to say, the right first step to take when trying to figure out how to defeat the akuma. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know either. Anything else?”

Evillustrator muttered something Marc couldn’t pick up.

“I’m sorry, I missed that.” Marc admitted. “If you don’t mind repeating . . . ?”

When the villain answered, his voice wasn’t as strong as before. Almost ragged in tone. Like he’d really not wanted to admit it, but he was, and the thought itself terrified him. “Someone to care about me, I guess.” 

But before Marc could even attempt to respond, the villain’s gaze hardened and he inhaled sharply, turning back to Marc with a look that chilled the writer to his core. “Just— _shut up!_ Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s bullshit. And I'm _not_ talking to you any longer.”

He didn’t get up or reach for his pen. Both sat in silence for a minute, the lights of the city washing over them, drowning them in shadows. Marc kept his focus on the akuma, his focus on his earrings, his focus on how much danger he’d _willingly_ placed himself in while also simultaneously feeling so much safer than he had the night before.

Marc grasped one of his hands in the other. Both were shaking.

He glanced up to the roof across the road. Chat Noir still sat there, waiting. But he was watching with rapt attention, waiting to see if Marc was going to make a move. Waiting to see if Marc was going to grab the pen from the akuma’s hand and would need to step in as defense.

He wasn’t.

“I’ll stop talking to you, promise. But can I have the pen?”

To his surprise, Evillustrator shrugged, his eyes glossy again. “Fine.”

And when Marc snapped the pen, it didn’t seem final, like a whole new situation was just opening, and Marc was none the wiser of what was to occur. It sent a chill down his spine, even as he captured and released the akuma. What was the Evillustrator’s next goal? What about Hawkmoth’s? Had he just taken a step that couldn’t be undone? Marinette and Tikki would be so disappointed in him.

His writer brain told him that a whole can of worms had just been opened with this little conversation. 

He told his writer brain to shut up.

Elsewhere, Hawkmoth grinned, feeling the new wave of emotions grip him. 

This akuma’s apparent plan was brilliant. Since the new Ladybug seemed to enjoy the Evillustrator’s presence, or at the very least didn’t fear for himself, the opportunity was nothing short of perfect. Sooner than later, Ladybug would let his guard down, the Evillustrator would obviously trick him and make him comfortable only to steal the earrings, and the ladybug miraculous and the power of creation would belong to Hawkmoth himself. It might take a few nights to be comfortable, as the new Ladybug seemed jumpy and anxious, but also spoke openly, so it would be sooner than later. And when Chat Noir would attempt to get the miraculous back, he would be similarly easy to defeat, bringing with him the cat miraculous and the power of destruction. And then after combining the two, he could bring back his wife, his lost love. The plan was seamless, perfect.

The only possible concern regarded the Evillustrator’s emotions.

The akuma didn’t seem nearly as upset as before.

Was this worth Hawkmoth’s attention, that he and the akuma may have differing goals in mind? That the akuma might develop actual feelings for Ladybug's replacement? Hopefully not. The overpowering, debilitating emotions of the boy would take over very soon. One could not manage being that distraught and recovering without any setbacks. And the Evillustrator had just lost his own love; wanting to form a friendship as risky as this would be was just foolish.

No, there were no worries. He just had to have patience.

And soon, he would be victorious. 

Nathaniel awoke to a voice that seemed familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Like he’d heard it before, but maybe only in a dream or something like that. And when he blinked, the haze fading from his eyes, the first colors he saw were red and black. Then bright, bright green eyes—

_The new Ladybug._

A hand was stretched out for him. He took it, inhaling sharply as this Ladybug helped him from the ground and to his feet. Wind whistled through the rooftop they were on, sending his hair flying and coldness through his jacket. He shivered slightly.

“Nathaniel?”

Oh god, that was the most wonderful voice—

He finally took a good look at the person who’d replaced Ladybug. They were fairly androgynous, with wispy dark hair mostly covered by the hood of their suit and light makeup, including black lipgloss. They had a nice smile too, and those electric green eyes . . .

Shame filled his head as he realized he’d probably just been fighting them.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Nathaniel told them hastily. “Uh, sorry for anything I did, I don’t actually want to hurt you.”

He paused, desperately searching his mind for anything that would serve as a clue as to what he did as the Evillustrator. And with a jolt, he realized that he did indeed remember _things_ , just not the way he would as himself. Like, he got snippets of speaking with Ladybug, talking about his date and his birthday and—

Fuck. He’d talked about being heartbroken.

That wasn’t supposed to be talked about. It was just supposed to be a thought that he mused over whenever he finally got to sleep after hours of Hawkmoth using him as a personal armada. It was just supposed to be something he could dream of, waking up and realizing how pathetic the idea really was. Who would _actually_ like someone like him?

Well, at least he didn’t remember any fighting.

Or any more death.

Thinking about Chloe still sent him spiraling into depressive and anxious thoughts, so rather than focus on that, he chose to add, “Well, uh, I should get home soon. So, thank you.”

Black glossy lips formed a smile. “If you want, I can walk you home.”

Oh.

_Oh no._

But that _was_ exactly what he wanted. Just the thought of someone giving him _positive_ attention for once—and after being akumatized too!—was so incredible that he couldn’t help but almost feel flattered. And this person was honestly pretty sweet . . . and possibly something else, too.

Clutching his hands together, he said, “Oh really? Thanks! I—yeah. That’d be nice.”

The new Ladybug nodded. Their smile almost seemed . . . sad? “Okay.”

“I’ll see you later, then?” That came from Chat Noir, who was standing a little bit behind the two of them. Nathaniel hadn’t even noticed him, as his dark suit seemed to blend into the dark sky. The new Ladybug nodded his agreement, prompting Chat Noir to take off into the night.

“Nathaniel?” the new Ladybug asked with a shaky smile. Their eyes stayed focused off into the distance, causing Nathaniel’s thoughts to start spiralling out of control. Was he being a problem? Well, of course he was being a problem, he was causing the two heroes to stay up late and tire themselves out in battling his emotions. But it wasn’t an expression of annoyance. What would he call that expression if he drew it? Maybe something . . . insecure? “You’re okay with just taking the elevator?”

“Yeah, the elevator’s fine.”

The new Ladybug nodded. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m not good with using the yo-yo or my abilities yet, and—yeah.” They started heading towards the elevator, and Nathaniel followed suit. 

He didn’t know anything about this person, not even their pronouns, but his disjointed memories from being the Evillustrator were indicative enough of their personality. Kind, gentle, understanding. Not just writing him off as a lost cause or a murderer or a monster. Talking to him as a _person_ , even when he was the villain that had caused all these problems. So different from the harassment and silence he’d been receiving from nearly everyone else. After their talk, even if he didn’t remember it all, he honestly felt a little . . . lighter.

So if that was the case, that he just wasn't used to positive attention, then why did he feel so strange when their hand brushed against his in the elevator? Why did their slightly awkward introduction of themself as the new Ladybug make him smile again? Why did the way that their hair fell in waves around their hood, the way that their eyes seemed to glow in the darkness occupy his thoughts as the two of them headed into the street? Something about Ladybug’s replacement absolutely sent his heart racing and his cheeks turning hot, though he couldn’t fully place it. It was so familiar, though.

And then it hit him like a brick. 

Yeah, it was familiar. Familiar and painful.

He was falling in love again.

* * *

_Baby, tell me one more beautiful lie_   
_One touch and I ignite_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


	7. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: there's a brief mention of the violence from ch. 1

_In love._

Nathaniel sighed, hugging his knees to his chest. He sat on his bed, watching out the window out into the night sky. He was tired, really tired, but not enough to let himself just sit with his thoughts. 

How pathetic was he, that he was attracted to the one person that had been so nice to him? He didn’t think his standards were low or anything. Marinette had been exactly his type—kind, sweet, talented, pretty, creative . . . so it was no wonder he liked her. But he’d barely spoken to this new Ladybug. In fact, their relationship had mostly consisted of fighting so far. No way would anyone be attracted to him after seeing him as Evillustrator, after seeing him at his worst. 

But still . . .

During the walk home, he’d been told to just call his companion Ladybug since the role was temporary and that his pronouns were he/him. And that’s it. That’s the only information that he’d gained about the person who’d taken over his thoughts. 

God, he was such a hopeless romantic.

But this was the first time in days that he didn’t feel like everyone hated him.

Because the one thing that Ladybug was giving him that no one else dared to was a chance. A chance to feel like a person again. Whatever he’d said to Evillustrator had jarred Nathaniel to the core, and he didn’t want that to end.

He wasn’t going to see him that often, though, especially since the role was so temporary. 

Not unless he continued to allow himself to be akumatized. 

“I can’t even get a latte?” Chloe snapped, throwing herself onto her bed. 

“Mademoiselle Bourgeois, it’s nighttime. The coffee shops are no longer open.” Butler Jean reminded her, holding his usual tray and standing in the doorway. At the lack of available cafes, he’d asked the kitchen staff to create a homemade latte instead. Chloe didn’t want it, but that was fine, that just meant he could drink it later. “Also, there is an akuma afoot. People fear to open this late.” 

“Then that’s another thing to blame on Kurtzberg.”

The bitterness in her tone didn’t escape Jean. He wasn’t planning on bringing anything up to her, not wanting to trigger possible trauma from the incident, but not saying anything now seemed like the worse choice.

“Is the person you speak of the akuma?”

She huffed, which was apparently her answer. 

Something had changed about Chloe since the incident a few days ago. She wasn’t wearing her usual clothes anymore, opting instead for a more basic shirt and jeans without her diamond belt. Sabrina hadn’t visited the hotel in a while, which was rather unusual considering that Chloe hardly went anywhere without her. And when Chloe was back at home, she just sulked and demanded to be alone. If Jean didn’t know her better, he would suspect that she was feeling some sort of guilt and shame over the incident. 

“Mademoiselle Bourgeois, am I to presume that you were the one this particular akuma chose to go after?” 

“And what do you care, Jean-Louis?” she snapped back, turning away from him. “I’m tired and I want to go to sleep. So leave, before I call someone to come and send you away.”

And that would’ve been his cue to leave. But the tone she spoke in was different than usual. Her heart wasn’t in her nasty words, just echoes of how she usually spoke. Like she was trying to be something she no longer was for fear of losing her reputation. 

And Jean should know, he knew her better than anyone. He was the first to comfort her when her mother abandoned Andre and Chloe to head to the United States. He was the first to continue promoting her to make friends with Adrien and Sabrina in the hopes that her destructive tendencies would improve. And he was the first to suspect Chloe’s involvement at several of the other akumas. Their identities had been kept secret publicly, but he’d gotten to hear all about how “Kubdel tried to kill me just because her _stupid_ watch broke!” and “Cesaire got akumatized because she was expelled! Ugh, _ridiculous!_ ” 

So he’d originally heard “Kurtzberg attacked me in the library today! Can you _believe_ it?” And he chalked another one up to Chloe’s poor behavior with her classmates. But later, when he’d run upstairs after hearing a commotion from Chloe and others, he’d found her furious, shaking and face wet with tears. He didn’t ask. But he knew this was worse than times before.

And when Chloe told the mayor all that had happened, Jean understood, in a way. Before he’d been a butler in the mayor’s house, he’d dabbled in psychology. And he could tell that what happened to her had shaken her to her core. So before he was to go, he just wanted to press for one more bit of closure, his hopes not dashed yet.

“Mademoiselle Bourgeois, are you okay?”

She turned, fire and the barest hint of tears in her eyes. “Do I _look_ okay? I _hate_ all of this! And more importantly, I’m angry that you’re not listening, so _leave_ , Jean-Marquis!” 

He bowed slightly and walked out without another word. 

Marc crept into his room through his open window, thanking the heavens again that his parents couldn’t be bothered to come into his room and see what he was up to. His whole body felt shaky and displaced, like he wasn’t really _there_ , per se. 

What had happened with the Evillustrator?

 _“Spots off.”_ he said, his voice mildly echoing in the dark room. His hero exterior faded, revealing his regular clothing, and causing Tikki to reappear and fly near his face. He took a deep breath and picked up the bag of cookies Marinette had given him.

“You did wonderful again!” she exclaimed, taking the macaron that Marc handed her. “He was very responsive. Are you going to try to talk to him tomorrow, too?”

“I’d like to.” Marc told her honestly, taking a seat on his bed. He held his head in his hands, feeling the start of a pounding headache from all the energy he’d been using. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he was nowhere near able to sleep at the moment. “I think I did something, though. Like I made a connection I wasn’t supposed to. Ladybug and Chat Noir fight the akumas, they don’t make friends with them, right?”

“Hawkmoth is still new.” Tikki informed him. “And these akumas are still new. Yes, Ladybug and Chat Noir usually fight them, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take a new tactic. And I think you’re doing great at it!”

Marc bit his lip, still unsure. “Thanks, Tikki.”

And later, when he was lying in bed but still wide awake, he thought back to when he’d been the one to help Nathaniel off the ground. It felt like he was in a fairytale, saving the person that he liked. Except he didn’t really like Nathaniel anymore, not like that. Did he?

He wasn’t sure. 

But he _couldn’t_ have a crush anymore, either way. He couldn’t let his feelings interfere with his mission. Marinette had needed him to help her, Nathaniel just so happening to be the person akumatized. This wasn’t about him. This was about Marinette. 

Still . . .

No. None of that. He had to shut down any feelings for Nathaniel.

It was for his own good.

Chloe fumed silently, keeping her eyes fixed on the Eiffel Tower in the distant skyline until tears started to cloud her vision. Her hair sat in tangles around her face as she watched, her tearful reflection becoming less and less visible in the window.

What kind of question did Jean-Baptist think he was asking? Was she okay? Of course she wasn’t! And with good reason, too. Kurtzberg _killed_ her and the _heroes of Paris_ left her to die! She was clearly a victim, even if her class didn’t seem to give a shit. The only people who’d even asked if she was okay were Adrien and Sabrina. 

_Sabrina . . ._

Of course Chloe hadn’t _meant_ to yell at her friend. She was pissed and Kurtzberg wasn’t in school, so she just lashed out at the first person who’d spoken to her. It wasn’t _her_ fault that Sabrina got so upset that she ditched school the rest of the day and now refused to talk to her. Right? Sabrina was just sensitive.

But honestly, if she thought about it, she really did miss her friend.

As much as most of the school had immediately gone after Kurtzberg after she’d given them the tip, Chloe’s class was . . . less understanding. Sure, most of them carefully didn’t speak to Kurtzberg after an incident where Alix had just said his name, startling him to the point of him panicking and running out of the lunchroom. But it wasn’t like any of them spoke to Chloe either. Not after they’d all seen her make her comments about Kurtzberg’s sketchbook, causing him to get akumatized. They all seemed to think that it was her fault.

It hadn’t been a big deal, really, to get people akumatized. It just _happened_. Before, Chloe had just thought that if they were _that_ upset over a couple comments, they were just pathetic and sensitive. Sure, she’d maybe be in danger, but she’d always get saved.

But as agitated as she was about the recent experience, as much as she didn’t even want to _think_ about the moment where the blade cut into her stomach and her vision blackened and faded, her last view being Ladybug’s horrified expression . . . 

She knew she’d fucked up.

Fuck, that’s how her mom had been, right? Not giving a shit how she treated anyone, including Chloe herself? She’d heard something about people picking up bad behaviors from their parents, and Chloe had prided herself in that she would never be as much of a pushover as her father was, but maybe she was looking at the wrong parent.

She hated being the one who was in the wrong. And to her, she was rarely wrong, but whenever she was and was forced to confront it, it just brought upon a sense of self-loathing, which was absolutely unacceptable for someone like herself. But fuck, maybe she’d at least been part of the problem this time; she didn’t _need_ to bother Kurtzberg about his drawings. Maybe it was funny, maybe his drawings were just self-insert crap, maybe it was kind of pathetic how hung up he was over Marinette. And maybe her saying something fucked with him so much that he’d been twisted into something he didn’t want to be. 

God, did she help cause her own death? 

Did she cause Ladybug to quit? She knew that kid she saw earlier wasn’t the girl who’d been saving Paris this whole time. And she really hadn’t meant to upset her father into calling Ladybug and Chat Noir enemies of the city; that one was genuinely a mistake.

Did she ruin her relationship with one of the few people who gave a shit about her because she couldn’t admit that she was part of the problem, that it wasn’t just caused by Kurtzberg being an asshole? 

All these issues she caused were overwhelming to the heiress, the girl who could never admit that she was in the wrong. So in reaction, Chloe pulled out her phone and pressed the call icon on one of her contacts, keeping her focus on the Parisian skyline. 

“Adrien?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. “I think I need your help.”

* * *

_So alive, your touch is like the daylight_   
_Burning on my skin, it turns me on again_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly Chloe-centric because it needs to be, but the next few should be a lot more focused on Marc and Nath as things within that storyline develop.


	8. The Art of Complication

“You’re here.”

Marc turned on his heel, the wind whipping at the edges of his hood. He stared the villain straight in the eye, green eyes meeting the deep aqua ones. Every time he saw the villain, it sent his heart pounding in his chest. The problem was, he couldn’t place the cause of this repeated physical reaction. He’d originally assumed it being due to fear, but that didn’t seem like the case any longer. Was it pity? Anxiety? Was he scared? Was he _a_ _ttracted—?_

“I am.” He clenched a fist, exhaling deeply. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Well, clearly not _good_ , but you know how it is.” Evillustrator side-eyed the gift bag still clenched in Marc’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” Marc thrust out the bag. After a confused moment of pause, Evillustrator took it from his hand, eyes flicking back and forth from Marc to the gift bag. In a spur of the moment decision, Marc had chosen to use tissue paper in the primary colors to match the artist’s insignia, and now he wished he hadn’t tried to be so cutesy. “It’s a birthday present. I know it’s been a few days, but still.”

The artist’s face lit up. “You’re the only one . . .” He ducked a little, attempting to hide his face. Was he . . . _blushing?_ His cheeks had flushed a darker shade of purple, so maybe. “Anyway, thanks. I appreciate it.”

Marc glanced up to meet Chat Noir’s eyes from a nearby rooftop. He motioned that the feline hero could leave if he wanted to, and Chat nodded, understanding. These were long nights for anyone involved with the akuma attack, and based on how the night before had gone, they’d made an agreement beforehand that if Marc felt safe and secure enough to be alone, he could give it a try. Marinette didn’t know—Marc honestly didn’t know how she’d react if she knew how he was just talking with an akuma like it was no big deal—but Tikki said she believed in Marc, which was comforting. And it really seemed like the Evillustrator didn’t want to harm him.

So Marc only felt a tiny bit afraid when Chat Noir ran across the rooftop, then out of sight.

Evillustrator pressed his pen to the tablet and drew a place for them to sit again, this time a much bigger couch with pillows and such. More like a futon. Marc took a seat gingerly, still half-expecting for there to be some sort of trap to steal his miraculous. It wouldn’t be out of the question to be lured in with kindness and end up stuck in a situation that he couldn’t get out of. But no, the Evillustrator was too focused on unwrapping the gift. He sat as well, taking the layers of tissue paper out to reveal the sketchbook and pack of colored pencils that Marc had bought for him. And then underneath, a cupcake in a tupperware container. 

“Did you _bake_ this?” Evillustrator asked, turning to Marc with such a sharp glance that the writer nearly jumped. The villain’s tone was incredulous, peaking with a little bit of a laugh, but not the amused type. More like he was so surprised that he couldn’t help it. 

Marc couldn’t tell him that he had convinced Marinette to make cupcakes with him “for fun”. That he’d frosted it and though he was no baker, he hoped it would look good anyway. That he’d stolen one and told Marinette that it had burned so that she wouldn’t feel bad for not having done anything for Nathaniel’s birthday. 

“Yeah, I did. Hopefully it tastes okay; I’m not really a baker.”

The Evillustrator turned, glancing between the cupcake and art supplies, then back to Marc. His hair stirred slightly in the breeze. “It’s great, thank you.” 

Marc noted how the akuma was so strangely polite this time, as if he was still upset but didn’t show that side of himself in front of Marc, but he didn’t dare comment on it. His relationship with Evillustrator was tenuous at best, and he didn’t honestly want to risk it, not when he was getting closer to completing the goal that Marinette had given him, as well as the slightly selfish fact that he was almost enjoying this possible weird new friendship. Or whatever it was.

With a ruminating smile, Evillustrator flipped open to the first page of his sketchbook, placed it on top of his tablet, and chose one of the colored pencils to sketch with. The pencil grazed the sketchbook lightly, creating lines and shadows that seemed to come to life right before Marc’s eyes. The end result looking more and more like Nathaniel’s artwork, and Marc realized with a jolt that it was him that had been drawn, practically replicated onto paper.

“You’re not going to talk today?” Evillustrator asked, breaking the trance.

“You’re a good artist.”

“Compliments aren’t going to make me stop getting akumatized.”

“I know.” Marc bit his lip. “But I still like your drawings.”

With a flourish, Evillustrator ripped the design from the sketchbook and passed it to Marc. “All yours.”

Staring at the drawing, Marc felt himself involuntarily smile. His art skill really was unmatched, but now it was being used as a tool for evil, a conduct for Hawkmoth’s akumatization. Because Nathaniel was a genuinely nice person, something Marc had assumed for a while, and now it was becoming the reality. But he was being used. And being used and thrown into situations against his will were destroying him. He had no stability. Nothing to hold onto.

“You know, I’d never trick you.”

Evillustrator turned sharply, blinking. And Marc honestly didn’t blame him. It was relevant, but still, it’s not like that was an answer to a question or anything. It just felt . . . right to say. In regards to gaining his trust, anyway.

“I . . . I appreciate that.” he repeated.

Marc nodded, everything going hazy. Had he just made a promise that he couldn’t keep?

After a long moment of pause, he went back to watching Evillustrator draw, how the pencil in his hand literally seemed to bring the drawings to life underneath it’s light touch. He was left-handed, Marc noted, which made sense, given that there was a clunky tablet attached to his right arm. The light from the full moon cast a glow over everything, casting some sort of ethereal glow over the rooftop and the two boys.

He’d noticed that no one was really talking to Nathaniel at school that day, or at least the few moments the boys were in the same room no one spoke to him. Which was better than him getting harassed. Chloe especially was acting weird, talking exclusively with Adrien in hushed tones during lunch. Marc himself had no explanation, just that he hadn’t been involved in any of it. Had the students moved onto a different target to harass and intimidate and spread gossip about?

A cloud passed over the moon.

Evillustrator flicked his eyes upwards, then grimaced. _“Not this shit again.”_

“What?”

“I can’t draw in the dark.” He set the art supplies back into the bag, then twirled his pen between his fingers, which seemed to be some sort of unconscious habit. “Are you going to start a conversation or not?”

“If I didn’t know better,” Marc ventured, everything within him telling him to stop before he made a mistake that he’d regret. “I’d say that you _want_ to talk with me.”

“Maybe I do.”

Marc blinked. The response was absolutely not what he’d expected, especially considering who he was speaking to. The villain’s earlier politeness was strange, yes, but not enough that Marc had thought he would outright admit to being . . . _lonely?_ What was it like to be akumatized every night with everyone regarding him as a murderer, a horrific monster, a terrorist’s henchman? It sounded lonely. And Marc knew lonely. He had maybe two friends, and he wasn’t either’s _best_ friend. His parents were distant at best. And now he was finding solace and friendship with an _akuma_. An akuma that tried to shove him off a building and caught him last minute.

That’s why he felt weirdly comfortable enough to speak more openly. Because the situation was already so strange that he unconsciously didn’t mind if he made it stranger. Even if this was his crush. Maybe.

“You’re good company.” Evillustrator muttered, glancing away. “You’re the only person who isn’t an asshole to me. So no, I don’t mind being treated like a person instead of a freak.”

Marc ignored the jolt running through his heart at that answer. Not only was his sympathy rising intensely, it was genuinely touching to hear that Tikki was right, that the akuma really did just need someone to talk to and _it was working_. But he couldn’t vocalize any of that, so instead he asked, “What about your parents?”

The Evillustrator’s demeanor became stilted, shoulders stiffening and legs crossing. “It’s just me and my mother, and she’s in the medical field, working long hours and all that. I don’t think she knows I’m the akuma everyone’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t know about any of this?”

He shook his head, eyes carefully trained on Marc.

Resisting the urge to tell him that he _should_ get his mother involved, that she could probably help, Marc just nodded. He also wanted to suggest therapy, to try to get someone to help him with his mental health since Marc couldn’t do it all, but he decided to wait and try to tell Nathaniel. Since akumas seemed to run on bad emotions, suggesting ways to get rid of those emotions to an akuma was probably not ideal. 

The two glanced to the side, accidentally making eye contact.

 _He had a really nice eye color._ Marc hadn’t realized it before, but the artist’s eyes really did light up in the shadows, a dull shade of turquoise, the same color as the water of a deep oceanic whirlpool. 

Some sort of heavy silence passed between the boys as they kept their eyes fixed on one another. Like an understanding, but more. Like unspoken feelings that were unable to be said aloud at that point. Marc’s heart started pounding rapidly, causing him to shiver slightly. _What was happening?_

“Well, I’ve had my fun for tonight.” Evillustrator announced, breaking the stillness and tossing Marc the pen. The writer fumbled for it, still in a sort of shock, but caught it in the end. “Purify the akuma if you want.”

Marc snapped the pen again, exhaling deeply as he did so, breaking the spell. Whatever he was feeling, he had to get rid of it immediately. He definitely couldn’t be attracted to the person he was supposed to defeat, even if his method of “defeating” was unorthodox. And it didn’t matter either way, since those feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The artist was just looking for consolation and friendship, nothing more.

Right?

The Evillustrator watched Ladybug make his way to the edge of the roof and snap the pen in half, slightly amused. The other boy didn’t seem to fully know what he was doing as a hero, but he was nice and almost comforting to be around. And there was something about him . . . 

. . . something that made him absolutely breathtaking.

No, Evillustrator absolutely couldn’t think that way about his temporary companion. 

And why would he? The Ladybug boy would have to leave later anyway, or at least when he stopped being akumatized so often, and would abandon him. Just like Marinette. Whatever moment had seemingly passed between the two, it didn’t need to mean anything. Evillustrator could just go back to being irritable and actually fighting Ladybug, the boy would quit, and maybe the artist would feel better having let someone go instead of being heartbroken all over again. Then Hawkmoth could just fuck off and stop using him.

But he knew he couldn’t do that.

A bright pink glow enshrouded his face, the tell-tale sign of Hawkmoth’s interference. He didn’t think Hawkmoth could do it when the akuma was being purified, but maybe since it wasn’t purified yet, he had to get one last word in.

_“Evillustrator, I presume everything is going according to plan?”_

“Of course, Hawkmoth.” Not that he had a plan, exactly. He had to admit that he was rather distracted from his negative emotions and the goal thrust upon him. “It’ll go exactly as you’re thinking it will.”

_“Wonderful to hear. And I suppose the new Ladybug suspects nothing of your future betrayal? How you will trick him into stealing the miraculous?”_

“Uh, yes. He doesn’t suspect anything.” Evillustrator crossed his arms, attempting to maintain a casual sense. Was that what Hawkmoth presumed he was doing, tricking the one person that had actually given him positive interactions in the past few days? As much as he _knew_ he was created for a goal, that he was intended to fulfill expectations and how much he’d originally wanted to cause hurt and pain when being reakumatized, once again his thoughts had been overcome by longing for a particular person. And being akumatized accentuated all of his emotions, not just the negative ones. Granted, he was still enraged by everything that had gone down, but now if shit hit the fan and he destroyed _everything_ , he’d have at least one person he’d want to save.

_“Good. See to it that you keep it that way and stay on task, as you more than anyone know how I react in cases of rebellion.”_

The artist’s left arm went stiff, fingers shaking. He couldn’t move it at all.

It was just like before, when he’d dared to comment on how he wanted to seek romance instead of revenge or Hawkmoth’s ultimate task. But before he could even attempt to fight against the physical possession though, his mind began to cloud with a sort of dizzying haze, pain shooting through in waves. _If he could move his hands, he’d clutch his head, but he couldn’t_ —

_“Understood?”_

Teeth grit, he muttered, “Yes, Hawkmoth—”

And then everything cut off, fading to black.

“Are you okay?”

The voice, full of concern, drew Nathaniel back from the darkness.

And with a jolt, he realized that he could remember everything. Well, almost everything. But he could remember things said, he could remember the two sitting together, the gifts given for his birthday, and that strange moment that they dared not acknowledge—

Taking Ladybug’s hand, being helped to his feet once again, he almost dared to bring it up. He didn’t dare. But he almost did. What if the other boy shared his feelings? He didn’t want to assume anything, but that moment seemed far more than just a platonic connection.

“Hey, I was, uh, thinking. And I had some thoughts on what you could do? Like to maybe help with . . .” Ladybug gestured, looking for the right words. “Everything?”

“Y-yeah! I’d love that.” Nathaniel nodded. Somehow the feelings of self-loathing had faded. That might’ve been why he was able to remember more of what he did as Evillustrator, especially in regard to the moments where his akumatized self was happiest. “What were you thinking?”

But before the other even spoke, Nathaniel realized the truth of the situation with a jolt, something he’d considered the night before, something that the Evillustrator had apparently realized. Someday he wouldn’t get to see the Ladybug boy again. He was a superhero, and his civilian identity was just as hidden as the original Ladybug and Chat Noir’s. He was very clear about it being a temporary position, and it was implied that once the Evillustrator was defeated, the original Ladybug would take over again. 

The new Ladybug wouldn’t come back after that.

And Nathaniel didn’t want to be left alone again.

* * *

_You and I, survivors of the same kind_   
_But we're the only ones dancing on the sun_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


	9. Moment of Reckoning

“It’s no use.” Chloe muttered, resting her head in her hands. “What’s the point of trying if nothing changes, if everything’s still fucked up? I can’t make things happen.”

Adrien sat down near her on her couch, close enough that it could be seen as comforting and far enough away that he wasn’t disturbing her. Now that Marc seemed confident to be on his own, or at the very least something had changed between the first night of fighting and now that he was safe enough in dealing with the akuma, Adrien hadn’t hesitated when Chloe called him again, this time asking if he could come to her house to talk. Marc was willing to talk with the Evillustrator, so Adrien could talk with Chloe. It was just as well, Marc seemed to have a special connection with the akuma, given that he hadn’t wanted to fight for the past few nights.

It’d been strange with Chloe for the past few years. She’d started to change around the time they turned thirteen, becoming more entitled and rude to everyone except Adrien himself, who she seemed to desperately want to stay friends with. And then, when Adrien started going to school, she’d only behaved worse, getting people akumatized left and right. But the whole encounter with the Evillustrator, the one where he’d thankfully been unconscious and avoided seeing the outcome, seemed to jar her into some sort of stupor where she wasn’t behaving as poorly as usual, which eventually lead to her breaking down over the phone, over how she was struggling with understanding that she was in the wrong. Adrien wasn’t fantastic with understanding people, partially due to his father’s decision to keep him distanced from the world, but he did want to help his old friend.

“No, you can’t. And you can’t _make_ people forgive you for anything, either.” Adrien told her, clasping his hands together. 

“So, what should I even do?” she demanded, her tone sharpening at the end.

That was a good question. Adrien could tell that she was genuinely upset over at least some of the shit she’d caused, but she was still put off by the fact that Sabrina was ignoring her calls and texts, as well as at school. So he did his best to think of a solution, and eventually replied with, “What if you tried to reach out to people that you upset in the past? Like Nathaniel or Marinette?”

Chloe sighed, clearly not thrilled with his advice, though judging by the way that she nodded, she understood the point. “I can try. Kurtzberg’s . . . busy though. So I guess I’ll try Dupain-Cheng, though she’ll probably just ignore me too.”

“If she does, I’ll talk to her.” Adrien promised. “And what do you mean, Nathaniel’s busy?” 

How much had Chloe seen of the akuma attacks from the past couple nights? Adrien knew what was going on with Evillustrator due to being Chat Noir, but how did she know? As much as she’d been the partial cause of Nathaniel’s akumatization, she was probably struggling with her death having been something that happened. He couldn’t even imagine how upsetting it would be for her to remember something like that.

Chloe shrugged, unmoving. “He’s always with that new Ladybug person. I don’t know, they just walk past here in the middle of the night, and I can see them from my window.”

So she’d just seen Nathaniel and not the Evillustrator. That was probably a good thing. 

“You’ve been up in the middle of the night?”

She shifted awkwardly, clutching her hands together and turning her head with a strange expression on her face. “I haven’t been able to sleep lately.” she muttered. Before Adrien even had a chance to respond, she stood up in a flourish and announced, “Fine, I’m calling Dupain-Cheng. But I really don’t think she’ll give a shit.”

Adrien offered her a half-smile. He really couldn’t guarantee that either Marinette or Nathaniel would be willing to talk with Chloe, but he could do his best to help. And Marinette was sweet, she’d probably be willing to hear Chloe out if he promised that she was trying. 

“You don’t know unless you try.”

“. . . and today at school, Chloe wasn’t being an asshole for some reason. No idea why, just that I guess she chose to take a break from being such a piece of shit.” Evillustrator explained, twirling his pen as he tended to while talking. 

Suppressing the urge to ask if he’d sought therapy or talked to his mother yet, Marc nodded in encouragement. “That’s good.”

“Good, yeah. But not great.” Evillustrator told him. He edged a bit closer, _so close_ to Marc. They never sat this close. But he didn’t even seem to realize, grinning up at the night sky. This was probably the happiest he’d been since Marc met him, if expressions were anything to go by. “I’m still basically the most unpopular person in Paris at the moment. Probably a pretty sharp contrast from you.”

It took a minute for Marc to register what had been said. “Oh no, I’m not popular at all.”

“But you’re—” Evillustrator cut off abruptly. “You’re amazing.”

What a sharp contrast from such a short time ago. Marc couldn’t fully place what had changed, just that the artist villain was now on his good side for some reason unknown to him. They were friends. They got along.

It couldn’t be this easy, right?

“You’d probably know who I am if I'm that amazing and popular.” Marc joked. Only after saying that did he realize his mistake, that he’d accidentally given a clue as to his identity. And even though he hadn’t been drilled or anything with identity stuff, he was pretty sure that even giving hints to someone who was routinely possessed by Hawkmoth was a Bad Idea. All he could do was pray that the Evillustrator hadn’t picked up on the hint.

“We go to the _same school?”_

Okay, so he had.

“No!” And right then Marc was reminded of his promise to never trick the akuma. Did coming up with a quick lie to hide his identity count as _tricking?_ He decided that since his lie was so insincere, it probably did. So reluctantly, he added, “I mean—yeah. But you can’t know who I am! Really, it’s super important that if you want me to keep coming back, my identity has to remain a secret.”

“I _am_ curious. But I guess that makes sense.”

And whether he was being candid about not trying to figure it out or not was up for debate. Marc really wanted to trust the villain, but he couldn’t, not fully anyway. If he _was_ discovered, Marinette would have to go back to fighting the akuma. Maybe. Or maybe Nathaniel knowing who Marc was would just be exciting and he’d be so happy that he’d never get akumatized again.

Yeah, right.

The idea was almost laughable. Marc knew he wasn’t the type of person that someone as incredible as Nathaniel would like. Maybe as Ladybug, sure, but not as Marc Anciel. Guys like Nathaniel crushed on equally incredible people like Marinette, not awkward shy writers who couldn’t even talk without feeling massively anxious.

And Marc was about to respond, but the silence permeating the space between the two was so thick and so full of some sort of tension that he didn’t dare break it. Instead, he watched the artist’s face, watching his gleaming teal eyes, his lips parted slightly, his fidgeting hands. The way he fiddled with his pen and swung his legs in a way that was hardly noticeable. The way that the cool night ambiance turned his skin a more indigo shade, with his eye markings nearly black. 

And before Marc could react, the akuma turned to face him. “Hey.”

“H-hey.” Marc took a deep breath. Now whatever was between them had become thick enough to slice with a knife. But he didn’t mind, per se. Because while his cognitive dissonance warnings were going off, that he was maybe making a connection he wasn’t supposed to, he still enjoyed the feeling.

Agh, why couldn’t he let this crush go?

Besides, this was an _akuma_. A _villain_.

But Evillustrator didn't act like it, not as much anyway. Hawkmoth's current influence on him seemed little to none, and he was behaving more like . . . Nathaniel.

Evillustrator’s eyes flicked up to meet Marc’s, his quiet breathing picking up its pace. And with one quick movement, he grabbed for Marc’s hands and held tightly. After closing his eyes for a moment, he inhaled sharply. “Um, are we—?”

“I-I-I don’t know if I should—” Marc stammered, but he didn’t want to say no. He’d come back, he was here for a reason. And that reason was the person now mere centimeters from him, hands clutching his own. His crush should’ve gone, should’ve long since faded, but now it seemed to to bring him back once again. And apparently it'd extended to Nathaniel's akuma form.

Marinette. He was supposed to let his crush go so he could help Marinette.

She’d be so disappointed, he just _knew_ it.

Disappointed that he took a situation about her and made it about him.

The artist paused, eyes flicking upwards again, head tilting slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was forward of me. Did you still want me to—?”

But everything in him screamed that he couldn’t pass on this opportunity.

“Yes. I do.”

Evillustrator nodded. His hands gripped Marc’s even tighter, he moved closer, and then—

Oh god, Marinette would kill him. She’d hate him forever for this, and she’d track him down and demand her miraculous back, and then Chloe would broadcast it to the whole school and all of Marc’s classmates would just treat him worse . . .

But those thoughts slipped away quietly as their lips met.

Emboldened, Marc reached forward and pressed a light hand against the artist’s cheek, inadvertently pulling the two of them closer together. Taking his motion as a go-ahead, the Evillustrator held tight to Marc’s shoulders, positioning his body so they were fully facing each other. His lips were slightly chapped, but still soft. And his _eyes_ —they were so much prettier up close, flecks of gold and silver and indigo mixing in with the turquoise.

“What if someone sees?” he murmured against Marc’s lips.

But Marc had gone past the point of thinking about that. In response, he lifted his other hand, now cupping the artist’s face with a gentle touch. They kissed again, longer this time. Marc leaned against the back of the couch, arms wrapped around his, the villain’s bright hair mixing with his own. And the panic that had just been so overwhelmingly important to him faded away as he let his eyes flutter closed, let himself relax against the akuma’s soft embrace. 

“I guess that means you don’t care about being seen.” Evillustrator said, breaking apart with a satisfied grin. “But imagine the news articles: New Ladybug and Akumatized Villain Kissing at Midnight. That’ll cause some panic.”

“It’s not midnight.” Marc checked the time on his yo-yo. “Oh. It’s _past_ midnight.”

“I guess we have school tomorrow.” But even as Evillustrator spoke, he edged forward again, his legs overlapping Marc’s to the point where he was practically in his lap. Marc’s heart skipped a beat. The other’s closeness, his body heat, kept Marc from shivering in the cold night air. “I wish I’d see you tomorrow. I wish I knew your name.”

“I wish I could _tell_ _you_ my name.” Marc told him, regret staining his tone. 

And he meant it. But he also knew that it would never work.

Evillustrator nodded, his expression implying a thousand thoughts running through his mind all at once. But without saying anything of it, he met Marc’s eyes, his gaze asking the obvious silent question of if they could continue. And Marc’s nod answered it.

And as the villain’s lips touched his own again, a soft hand sliding underneath his hood to stroke his hair, all his racing thoughts abandoned him, leaving nothing behind but the overwhelming feeling of pure elation.

A couple hours later, Marc woke up slowly, blinking back the cold that had seeped to his skin even through his suit, hoodie, and mask. But his arms, still wrapped around the now-sleeping akuma, were warm as ever, more comforting than he’d ever imagined. He relaxed upon remembering where he was, that, given the akuma attacks, he was probably safer here with the actual akuma than anywhere else. They must’ve fallen asleep after holding each other and cuddling for a while, the repeated long nights catching up to both boys to the point of exhaustion.

The reality of the situation struck him then.

This was his _crush_. Well, the akuma-possessed version of his crush, but still. And not only had he totally and utterly failed in his task to defeat and de-akumatize him, he instead spent the past few days getting closer and now they were kissing in plain sight on a rooftop? God, he was such an idiot. Marinette would never do something this stupid, no wonder she’d been chosen to be Ladybug. 

He wanted to leave, to go to her house and beg for an apology and hopefully some sort of validation that this was okay (though he didn’t exactly have high hopes), but he couldn’t just leave Evillustrator here, alone. Not only was that unsafe for the city, but it was unsafe for Nathaniel. Despite the possibility that he might’ve messed up beyond repair by falling in love with an akuma, it still needed to be his duty to get Nathaniel somewhere safe. He could worry about everything else later, if his brain let him.

He reached for the pen resting next to the villain’s sleeping form and snapped it half. Within seconds, the akuma was purified, and Nathaniel’s arms tightened around Marc’s chest. He didn’t want to wake him up, but carrying him would probably prove difficult, especially given the fact that the artist didn’t seem like he was going to let Marc go easily. So without overthinking it, Marc gently shook Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? I’m going to help you get home.”

Nathaniel muttered something that couldn’t be heard, his face muffled by Marc’s upper arm where his head was currently resting. 

All Evillustrator had made was this couch, so Marc didn’t bother with the full miraculous cure. Instead, he found a way to get to his feet and pick Nathaniel up, bridal style. Any other time he’d be absolutely losing his mind over it, but he was equally exhausted and in some sort of shock, and his brain could only focus on getting to Nathaniel’s house and getting him home safe.

Thankfully, Mme. Kurtzberg was there this time and opened the door, incredibly grateful to see her son was okay. In fact, she repeatedly thanked Marc for helping. Which made sense, seeing that Nathaniel was asleep currently, maybe prompting some worry, but Marc wasn’t exactly sure how she’d react if he told her what had been happening, that her son was the akuma everyone was afraid of. Or if he told her that he and Nathaniel seemed to have feelings for each other. They did, right? Or was that just the Evillustrator? Either way, he decided to let Nathaniel handle the confession-type information and just leave after making sure everything was alright.

And as much as he wanted to go home now that it was nearing 4AM, wanted to go to bed and just pretend that none of it had happened while simultaneously losing it over the fact that _he_ and _his crush_ had _kissed,_ he knew that wasn’t the next step. 

He knew he had to talk to Marinette.

* * *

_Let the darkness lead us into the light_   
_Let our dreams get lost, feel the temperature rise_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally not saying that anyone's making the right or wrong decisions or that their thought processes are correct (especially that last one with Marc lol). It's just a tense situation with a lot of emotions running high. And everyone's processing things differently.
> 
> That being said, I think this is the first mostly happy chapter so far!


	10. Never Too Late

“. . . and that’s it.” Marc finished, having explained the whole night before. He hated how his voice trembled, close to something like tears despite not actually crying. It made him feel like even more of an absolute failure. “I messed up. So you can take the earrings back now—”

“Marc, no.” Marinette watched him carefully, her eyes dulled from the early morning time. She’d been woken up by his arrival, yet was more than welcoming to hear him talk at the moment. “If you really want to give up, it’s absolutely your choice. But if you just feel like you’re a failure for falling in love with him . . . I mean, I already knew you liked him . . .”

Marc sat up, staring at her. _“You set me up with him?”_

“Not exactly . . . I knew you had a crush on him, but I didn’t know that you were going to talk to him like that. Or that he was going to keep getting akumatized. Or that he liked you too. Or . . . anything. I just made a choice. And because I did . . . things are happening. And Marc, I just . . . I don’t know what’s the right thing to do next.”

“Marinette, _I kissed a supervillain.”_

“I know, Marc. And I don’t know what—”

“He _kissed me.”_

“Can we _please_ not talk about this?”

Marc froze upon hearing her sharp tone, shrinking back to the other side of the room. And even Marinette herself looked surprised that she’d said that, shaking her head and sighing, eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry. I’m just . . . tired and worried about things. And I’m still not really comfortable with the whole Evillustrator thing . . . can we talk more in the morning? At school, maybe? You keep the earrings.”

Marc nodded, unsure what to say. He didn’t feel comfortable being a hero anymore, but Marinette was right. Besides, school was in a few hours. God, he _really_ shouldn’t be out this late! Why did he have to do something stupid and risk his whole position? Risk Nathaniel’s well-being? The only thing he could even claim to be a benefit was that his spending time with Evillustrator kept Paris safe from the villain’s wrath, but that was even a long shot at best.

 _Basically,_ he mused as he left the bakery in the dark, _he was a failure._

  
  


After school that next day, Nathaniel entered the coffee shop, shivering slightly from the late January chill. He scanned over the room, looking for the first and only person who’d texted him that day, not really expecting to actually see her.

But sure enough, there she was, sitting in the back and wearing a hood as to disguise herself, he supposed. Either way, she was pretty conspicuous. But instead of caring about that, he simply ordered a coffee and after collecting it, made his way over.

She glanced up upon his arrival. “Kurtzberg.”

“You can call me by my first name.” he mumbled, attempting to not look at her at all. It was still just as painful to think about what he’d done, even though he was living in bliss with his possible new relationship. The fact that he’d done something horrific, something only the worst of the worst did . . . it overwhelmed his mind and sent his brain spiraling again. That moment of happiness was gone. Why did this Ladybug even like him? He didn’t deserve it!

“So.” Chloe sipped her latte, her eye contact practically boring holes into his mind. “I think I need to talk to you about something.”

“I know. I killed you, ruined your life, all that. I get it, Chloe.”

“No, Kurtzberg, don’t be dumb. I actually want to talk, not just insult you. Even if sometimes you make it easy.” She frowned. “That might’ve not been the best way to start.”

“No.” Nathaniel agreed. “It wasn’t.”

“Great, so do you mind listening for a minute?”

So Nathaniel sipped his coffee despite the tumultuous feeling in his stomach, listening to Chloe explain to him her thought process over what had happened. She explained how she’d realized she was in the wrong for once, and it messed her up enough to talk it through with Adrien. Even though Nathaniel still felt sick just thinking about the situation, after hearing what she had to say he had to admit that there was a difference from the girl who’d stolen the drawing from his sketchbook.

“So in short, I was an asshole.” Chloe shrugged, setting her latte back onto the table. “And I know that it doesn’t mean shit, that you probably don’t care, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry or whatever.”

“I do appreciate it.” Nathaniel muttered. He ran a finger along the rim of his mug, replicating the swirly lace design on it in his mind. He’d like to draw a design like it someday. Maybe give something with that design to Ladybug as a gift. “Thanks.”

“So . . .” Chloe trailed off, attempting to make some sort of conversation and probably eye contact. “You like the new Ladybug? You probably know them better than anyone else.”

Her words probably didn’t intend to cut, but they did. _Of course_ he knew the new Ladybug better than anyone, he was the one who kept getting akumatized. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“Ah. That wasn't supposed to be rude.” Nathaniel glanced up to see her face, then started when seeing that instead of appearing dismissive, she actually looked vaguely apologetic. Huh. Had she actually decided to not be such an entitled brat? “But like, do you _like_ him? Or is he obnoxious and uptight?”

“We kissed.” he blurted.

Oh God, oh _fuck_. He had _not_ meant to tell anyone that, much less Chloe Bourgeois. Even if she wasn’t being an ass anymore, he still needed to wait and see if he could even trust her with the most minimal knowledge, not the biggest secret he’d gained in the past week. If only he could be ripped from existence right then and there. 

To her credit, Chloe didn’t seem disgusted or even that startled. She just furrowed her brows, tilting her head to the side in a questioning manner. “Alright. So you like him? Like, the way you liked Dupain-Cheng? Do you draw him and stuff, too?”

Nathaniel wanted to die on the spot. _Why_ was she continuing this conversation? Hopefully not to procure blackmail of some kind, though Nathaniel couldn’t even think of anything she could take away from him. It’s not like Ladybug would listen to any sort of lie that Chloe would say, since he’d blatantly expressed his distaste with the mayor’s daughter. But even then . . .

“You don’t have to answer.” Chloe sipped her coffee, remaining completely stoic with her arms relaxed at her sides. “You know, I liked the original Ladybug.”

Finally, a topic that Nathaniel was a little more comfortable with! He nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “I know. You were her biggest fan, you said.”

“No, Kurtzberg.” She leaned forward. “I _liked_ her.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

“I didn’t know you liked girls.” Nathaniel blurted before he could stop himself.

“Well, I didn’t know you liked guys, so here we are.” Chloe crossed her arms, reclining back in her chair. “Do you know if she’s . . . if she’s doing fine?”

“Sorry, I don’t. I’ve only seen the new Ladybug since I started remembering my akumatizations.” And oh, how thankful he was to be remembering now. Last night was magical, and he wouldn’t want to forget it for the world. He could still feel the other boy’s embrace, the way that he almost cradled him as they fell asleep, his soft lips . . . “I hope you didn’t want to meet up just to ask that.”

“I didn’t.” She waved that away. “Are you and the new Ladybug dating?”

“And why would I tell you? But no. I don’t think so, anyway.”

Dating with the two of them would never work, and that thought sent chills down Nathaniel’s spine. He’d one day never see the new Ladybug again. Either that, or he’d keep getting akumatized until he was nothing, just Evillustrator left. And where would that leave him? A soulless monster? Ladybug wouldn’t love him then. So he was just supposed to let the only person who ever reciprocated his feelings go? That option wasn’t particularly appealing either.

Damn. He never realized how touch-starved he was until he got a taste of what it was like to be held, to have someone appreciate him and his romantic gestures. Especially while everyone saw him as a murderer, and the only person who took him seriously was the new Ladybug.

Well, there was one other person who’d been nice to him . . .

“Chloe?”

“Hmm?”

Nathaniel paused, taking a deep breath. “If you want to prove that you’re trying to be a better person, can you make Adam and his friends stop bullying a boy named Marc Anciel? Apparently he’s used to their homophobic slurs and comments.”

“Oh fuck, really?” Chloe bit her lip, glancing to the side. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Thanks.”

Seeing Marc bullied by those boys made Nathaniel feel sick. Being bisexual, he’d experienced a bit of homophobia in his lifetime, but this was the first time he’d seen it in person regarding someone else, and the fact that Marc was so used to it just broke his heart. And the fact that someone would stand up for him despite not having met him, Marc knowing full well that he was going to be bullied, just sent pangs through Nathaniel’s heart in a way he couldn’t even describe. He probably should’ve reached out to Marc again after all of that, and he resolved to do so as soon as possible.

“I should probably go.” Nathaniel said, standing despite his stomach turning again.

To her credit, Chloe nodded and also stood up. “Yeah, I understand.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Uh, thanks for talking with me. You didn’t have to, and I guess . . . thanks for giving me a chance. I won’t say anything about you and Ladybug.”

Nathaniel had almost forgotten that he’d talked about that, but even after feeling sick to his stomach at the way Marc had been treated, he could sense his cheeks growing hot as he thought back to how he’d blurted his secret. “I appreciate that. Not that it matters if you’re lying. I think everyone hates me anyway, and ‘secret rendezvous with a superhero’ isn’t really as bad as some of the stuff I’ve done.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, our class doesn’t hate you. They hate me.”

Blinking, Nathaniel considered this. Since no one had spoken to him—barring that one time Alix tried, but it just set off his anxiety—he just assumed that he was the school pariah. “No way they still hate you. You’re the victim.”

“No, Kurtzberg, _you’re_ the victim. You got possessed or some shit. And everyone knows that I’m the one who got you akumatized in the first place. Only Adrien’s giving me a second chance. Well, Adrien and you.”

“But Sabrina—”

Casting her eyes downward, Chloe shook her head. “She hates me too.”

Nathaniel considered this, along with the heiress’ body language. She only seemed a bit upset at the way most of the class thought of her, perhaps due to being used to it. But Sabrina, her only friend besides Adrien, was the one thing that caused Chloe to show her true regret, despite being in a public setting where she had a reputation to maintain. He thought back to the way that she trusted in and relied on Sabrina, the way they’d always seemed inseparable, the way Chloe was genuinely so upset without her—

Nathaniel tilted his head, asking the question with his body language.

 _You_ **_like_ ** _Sabrina, don’t you?_

Chloe gave a slight nod.

“See you, Kurtzb—Nathaniel.”

He waved his reply. And even after she’d left, he sat there, thinking and contemplating until his coffee was completely gone. He didn’t expect to lose their class’ signature rich bully overnight or maybe at all, but the way she was behaving herself was different than the way she had not too long ago. And he was getting better too, focusing on the good instead of the things he hadn’t been in control of. At least, overall. He was forming relationships, both platonic and possibly romantic, and every time he was akumatized, he was able to remember more and more. He didn't know why, but it seemed like it was related to his mood, which would be a good sign.

So if Chloe could start to move on from her past, maybe he could too.

* * *

_Baby, tell me one more beautiful lie_   
_One touch and I ignite_

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter! Updates might be a little infrequent now due to having a lot to focus on, but I promise the upcoming chapters will be worth it, haha.
> 
> Also! The conversation between Marinette and Marc at school will happen in the next chapter. I wrote it out and was originally going to have it here, but it fit more with the vibe of the next one, so that's where it'll appear. Hope that clears up any confusion!


	11. In the Name of Change

“. . . so what should I do?” Marc asked, resting his head in his hands. He was sitting underneath the stairs, and Marinette had joined him there, sitting with her legs crossed only a couple feet away from him. 

“Did you want to go back?” Marinette tilted her head slightly. Her expression was blank, and Marc absolutely hated blank expressions. They just gave him so many more ways to worry, since he couldn’t pinpoint what the person in question was thinking if they didn’t show it on their face. And since Marinette was the one person he was desperately hoping he didn’t upset . . .

“I don’t know.” he confessed. “I mean, I know I promised you I’d do my job. But um, I like him. A lot. Though not as a villain, I guess. Maybe.”

“You kissed him as a villain.”

Oh wonderful, now her tone was blank, too.

“Yeah, I did. I wasn’t thinking.” Marc bowed his head, attempting to block out what he knew would lead to her disappointment in him. “I know, I had a chance and I blew it. I should’ve just given you back the miraculous when you asked in the first place.”

Marinette was silent for a moment, leading Marc to almost look up before he thought better of it. 

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” she finally said, her voice a little softer than it was before. “You’re doing a good job keeping the Evillustrator from being a threat. Even though it’s kind of, um, unorthodox, you’re distracting Nathaniel from his own self-loathing. And if it’s working, at least for now, that’s good. Though we probably should try to get him into therapy.”

“I suggested that.” Marc told her. “Not sure if he followed through.”

“Good idea. The one thing I guess that we need to fix is that he’s getting akumatized at all. Why is he still coming back as the Evillustrator? So yeah, go back, and see what’s causing him to still get akumatized, and then go from there. If you can stop it from still happening, then give the miraculous back. Okay?”

Marc nodded. “I can do that.”

“Awesome.” She reached forward to give him a hug, then leaned back, a slight smile on her lips. “Thanks again, Marc. Really. This is a lot to ask of someone, and the fact that you’re so willing to put yourself in danger like that—”

“It’s okay. I volunteered.” 

The first bell rang then, alerting the two that it was time to head off to class. In response, Marc stood up, dusted his jeans off, and gathered his things. He had a lot to do that evening, and the night before had been long and exhausting, so he wanted to get to class as soon as possible. But before he could leave, something grabbed his attention. A question he still hadn’t asked.

“Marinette?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not upset that he and I kissed?”

The baker girl looked him in the eye for a moment, almost long enough to scare him into wishing he’d never asked. But before his mind could take him down that route, she said, “It wasn’t one of the best choices you could’ve made. But I get it. When you like someone . . . it’s hard to think through things first. So, no. Maybe whoever gave me the miraculous would be upset that a miraculous holder fell in love with an akuma, but . . . just make sure he stops getting akumatized, okay?”

“Yeah.” Marc nodded again. “I will.”

And he resolved to do so that night.

The feeling of fear that had gripped Marc to his core was completely gone as he walked onto the roof where he’d spent most of his nights. Well, maybe not totally gone, but it had faded quite a bit, especially now that he knew that he had nothing to fear from the darkness that would meet him there. Chat Noir wasn’t there as he hadn’t recently, and Marc didn’t know if the feline hero was aware of what had happened the night before. Maybe. It didn’t matter, though.

Their usual set-up was already drawn, and the villain in question was waiting on the couch, bouncing a knee and twirling his pen in one hand. 

The wind pulled his hood back as he approached the Evillustrator, brushing his hair lightly in the breeze. His boots had just become more comfortable to walk in and less of a hassle, creating a light bounce in his step.

“You came back.” Evillustrator murmured, clutching his pen with one shaking hand. “I almost didn’t think that you would.”

“I told you that I wouldn’t ever trick you.” And he still meant it just as much as he had the first time he said it, genuinely. Even if he needed to defeat him. Not that it wasn’t what Marinette had needed to do in the moment, but he couldn’t ignore just how much that had hurt Nathaniel.

They didn’t talk for a moment, just looking at each other in a light that seemed both familiar and different all at once. Neither seemed to want to acknowledge what had happened the night before, though both were fully aware.

“You—you’re so . . . wow.” the artist murmured, breaking the silence and reaching up to run a light hand through Marc’s hair. Marc fought the urge to feel flattered, the urge to let his guard down. He’d already done that once, and he couldn’t do that again. It was too risky.

Besides, he couldn’t let this relationship last. Not like this.

Not the way they’d kissed the night before.

Romeo and Juliet came to mind at that moment. They could never be together, not really. Not as themselves. And Marc couldn’t tell the Evillustrator his actual identity, as far as he was aware. 

Wait, could he?

He wasn’t supposed to be Ladybug forever, as he and Marinette had talked about earlier. So when he was done, when the Evillustrator was defeated permanently, could he ask Marinette to reveal his name? Surely she wouldn’t care.

And it would work out for everyone. Nathaniel would be in a better place mentally since he wasn’t getting akumatized all the time, Marinette could go back to the role that was rightfully hers, and Marc would get to be with his crush who actually liked him back. It looked like a win-win. 

But first, he had a task to complete.

“Hey.” he ventured, catching the akuma’s attention. “How come you keep getting akumatized? You seem kind of . . . happy now. Is it strictly about the situation with Chloe, or . . . ?”

“Not exactly. I spoke with Chloe today, and she was actually pleasant.” His tone implied that he’d expected the opposite, though Marc didn’t blame him. The only few interactions he’d had with Chloe weren’t great, to say the least. “She’s trying to be nice. I don’t know if she’s serious, but she promised to stop some boys from harassing one of the students at my— _our_ —school. We’ll see if she actually does it.”

Marc nodded, prompting him to keep talking. The thought crossed his mind that he was the student being referenced, as Marc anyway, but no, he didn't leave that much of an impression on anyone as a civilian. So he just waited for the actual answer to his question.

“Oh, why I’m getting akumatized? Uh . . .” He flinched, flicking his eyes to the right sharply. And when he finished speaking, his voice was quiet, soft. _“It was intentional.”_

“You’re intentionally getting akumatized?” Marc cried, turning to see the artist’s face, mind filling with thoughts steeped in worry. Everything else about the situation seemed to fade away for a moment. “You can’t do that!”

The villain’s face filled with fury. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair? You’re letting yourself get _possessed!”_

“You know I wouldn’t see you if I didn’t! You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I killed her! You’re the only person who hasn’t treated me like a _waste of space,_ like a _murderer,_ like a _monster!_ Do you know how many texts I get daily, telling me how I’m a terrible person who should rot away in prison? Do you know how often people steal my shit at school and destroy any of my drawings they can find? _Goddamn it,_ when I live like this, it’s not even hard to get akumatized daily.”

Marc took a deep breath, attempting to let a calm aura work against the villain’s sharp anger. “I understand. I really do. And I like you, too. But you’re still working with a terrorist, and as the honorary Ladybug, I can’t let that happen.”

“Are you _kidding me?_ Hawkmoth hasn’t forced me to do anything in days! So I—”

His words were cut off by a sharp cry, sending the villain clutching his head with a pained expression on his face. The typical butterfly mask appeared over his eyes. Marc couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as the person he’d grown close to suffered.

“Okay, _okay!_ Fine! I can do it! Just make it _stop!”_ The Evillustrator insisted, gritting his teeth together as he finished speaking. The pain seemed to subside, but didn’t fade entirely, as the villain still narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have tricked you! Just, _please—!”_

He noticeably relaxed, inhaling sharply.

And then he reached forward for Marc’s earrings.

Marc leapt to his feet, pulling away in horror. But the villain was persistent, standing as well and making his way towards Marc with narrowed eyes and a strange expression plastered on his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “But I’m going to need those earrings.”

“No, I can’t let you have them.” 

The mask reappeared over his face, causing him to press his lips together and nod. “Hawkmoth needs me to get them for him. And then we can be together without his interference. You know that, right? We’ll be together for real.” And as he spoke, he walked closer to Marc, his pen solidly clutched in his hand still.

_His pen._

And Marc remembered what the ladybug miraculous holder was _supposed_ to do.

He barrelled forward, catching the Evillustrator by surprise. The villain’s shock only deterred him for a moment, but it was enough for Marc to wrap his arms around the villain’s as tight as he possibly could, preventing him from drawing anything. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, and to a bystander, it might’ve looked like a moment where he was attempting to pull a stereotypical “saving the loved one from the dark side” move. But that perception would’ve been shattered when he moved to snatch the pen.

Evillustrator stared, his expression twisted in despair, as Marc snapped the pen in half, then fell to his hands and knees. Attempting to keep things from getting anymore dangerous, Marc quickly purified the akuma and set the butterfly free. It flew off into the dark sky, disappearing amongst the stars.

And just before performing the miraculous cure, Marc rushed over to the villain, keeping his voice light despite the whole situation that had just happened. “Hey. You have to stop getting akumatized, okay? Please? For me?” Thoughts swam through his head, nothing quick and concise enough to convince either Evillustrator or Nathaniel before Hawkmoth attempted to pull another trick. So without thinking, Marc blurted, “And then I can tell you my secret identity so that we can be together, okay? Just stop getting akumatized, and I’ll tell you who I am!”

A promise.

One that he wasn’t sure that he could keep.

But that was the last thing on his mind as the swarm of ladybugs swept through the area and covered the akuma, transforming him back to a civilian for hopefully the last time.

* * *

_Like a starship speeding into the night  
You and I get lost in the infinite lights _

_\- Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


	12. The Secrets That Divide Us

“Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette turned sharply at the sound of Chloe’s voice. The heiress hadn’t spoken to her since before the whole incident, and afterwards, Marinette had strictly avoided her for the same reason she’d avoided the Evillustrator—it was painful for her. And it’s not like Chloe cared about her in the first place, so she didn’t mind. 

But now here she was, arms crossed, standing only a couple feet away from Marinette and her locker with a strange expression on her face. She was tapping her foot on the floor fairly quickly, adjusting her posture as she did so.

“Yeah? What do you need, Chloe?”

“I just want to talk.”

Well, that was a new one.

Marinette fully turned, facing Chloe now and clutching tightly to her schoolbooks. “Sure. What’s going on?” 

Chloe sighed. “Look, Dupain-Cheng, I . . . I’m sorry. I guess. Adrien and I talked for a while, and while I’m not planning on becoming your best friend or anything like that, I’ve been bitchy to you for a long time, and that’s not great.”

“Oh.” was all Marinette could say for a moment. “Thanks, Chloe. I . . . I’m glad.”

Honestly, this was kind of out of the blue for her. Especially considering that she and Chloe had been mortal enemies for years, Chloe becoming the bane of her school existence for the past four years. It only increased once Chloe started being the cause of several akumatizations, driving Marinette-as-Ladybug crazy with her antics. And worse was the whole Evillustrator situation—the very thing that seemed to cause this whole apology.

Chloe nodded grimly. “Yeah. Thanks for listening.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, not speaking, just looking at each other with identical expressions of uncertainty. Neither seemed to want to leave in that moment, but there was nothing else to say. Chloe had said her part, and Marinette wasn’t in a position to say anything else to her. Forgiveness was pushing it, but being on speaking terms . . . they could try.

“I talked to Kurtzberg, too.”

That caught Marinette’s attention. Honestly, she’d just seen Nathaniel in his own little world during the school day, distant and unaware of his surroundings. He didn’t draw during class anymore, but he also didn’t get yelled at by teachers, nor did anyone try to speak to him in general. Barring Marc of course, but that wasn’t at school. So this was news to her.

“Really? You _did?”_

“Don’t look so shocked, Dupain-Cheng. You’re not the only one I’ve pissed off in my lifetime, and even though I still think he’s a dork and kind of cringy, that doesn’t justify some of the shit I’ve pulled.”

“No, not what I mean. Just . . . I’m surprised he wanted to talk to you at all.”

Chloe adjusted her posture, frowning. “Me too. This whole Evillustrator bullshit’s been going on for so long, I’m shocked he’s not working for Hawkmoth full-time or whatever. Not that he’s the type to do that, but . . . I’ve heard rumors.”

“The rumors are fake.” Marinette was quick to say. “No akumatized villain is trying to work for Hawkmoth. He’s preying on innocent people’s emotions, and Nathaniel’s . . . struggling.”

“Yeah.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I hope I don’t get akumatized.”

“Me too.”

Honestly, that was something Marinette had thought about a lot lately. She too was struggling, feeling like an absolute failure for what she’d done: giving up her job as Ladybug, shoving the role onto Marc, letting him stay with the Evillustrator alone, and then watching as the two of them fell in love—which shouldn’t have been a shock to her, but it somehow still was. That didn’t even begin to account for her issues she still faced regarding both the Evillustrator incident and the aftermath . . . 

Chloe coughed, drawing Marinette’s attention back onto her. “Hey, Dupain-Cheng? It’s kind of stupid, but you already don’t care about me, so . . . do you think the original Ladybug’s doing okay?”

Marinette searched the heiress’ eyes, but no trace of humor or sarcasm could be found in her expression. In fact, she almost looked somber, and it was then that Marinette was able to see that there was some genuine regret in her words, that it wasn’t just Chloe trying to please Adrien as usual, but her trying to make some kind of amends. 

“Yeah, Chloe.” A smile edged at Marinette’s lips. “I think she is.”

“. . . so can I tell him my identity?” Marc finished, glancing up to look his friend in the eye. His breath remained tight in his chest.

Marinette didn’t answer right away. She adjusted her posture, swinging one of her legs for a bit before finally looking up to meet Marc’s watchful stare. Her gaze filled with sorrow and regret, which made Marc realize what the answer was going to be before she even opened her mouth.

“I just . . . I don’t think it’s smart—”

“But you told me your identity!” Marc protested, even though his heart wasn’t in his words. “I just don’t want to disappoint Nathaniel, since I made him a promise—well, two promises—and if I don’t tell him . . .”

“I know.” Great, now she looked massively uncomfortable and upset, making Marc feel even worse than he already did. He highly respected Marinette, and he wanted her approval, so what was he doing? “I . . . I don’t know if that’s safe, telling your identity to someone who keeps getting akumatized. It’s only been one night that he hasn’t gotten akumatized so far, and it just . . . what if Hawkmoth finds out who you are and targets you? You’re already risking enough being Ladybug.” She frowned. “And it’s just not smart in case he gets akumatized again and goes after you for whatever reason . . . I’m so sorry, Marc.”

Marc wasn’t going to protest, he couldn’t. He’d been the one who’d made a mistake by assuming the answer, not Marinette, and now he was going to have to figure things out. 

“Yeah.” Marc nodded grimly. “Honestly, he’d probably be disappointed it’s me, anyway.”

“What? No, he wouldn’t.” She fidgeted for a moment. “Um, maybe—”

“It’s fine, Marinette. You’re right, it’s not safe. I don’t want Hawkmoth to target me, and if Nathaniel knows who I am, Evillustrator would too. Besides, I’m not the kind of person that he’d like to date—not me as Marc, anyway.” Marc sighed, clutching his arms against his chest. “I’ll figure something out.”

“. . . okay.” Her tone was just as somber as his. 

And when Marc walked away, he left feeling far more overwhelmed and out of sorts than he had been before he left. Now he had decisions to make. Since he couldn’t let himself be put into a situation he wasn’t prepared for, a situation where the artist villain could specifically seek him out to steal the miraculous, he had to figure out a way to tell Nathaniel that he had to remain anonymous without making it look like he was trying to trick him. That wouldn’t end well.

Honestly, the only way he could avoid the situation now would be if Nathaniel didn’t remember what he’d told him as Evillustrator, the promise he’d made about revealing his identity. That was still very possible, and if that was the case, Marc was in the clear. 

He could only hope.

Stepping onto the balcony, Nathaniel felt the cool night air hit his face as he looked out over the city. It was so strange to not be awaiting his emotions to turn south, to let Hawkmoth send over an akuma. But now, he had reason not to.

“Hey.”

Nathaniel turned, only to step backwards in surprise at the sight of Chat Noir sitting on the awning of the window beneath his. He hadn’t seen Chat Noir in so long that he almost forgot he was still active, unlike the original Ladybug. But it was a welcome surprise, since the pressure from inside Nathaniel’s thoughts was threatening to overwhelm him, and having someone else to speak to would definitely help. 

“Good to see you.” Nathaniel greeted him politely.

Chat nodded. “I haven’t been out and about lately, but I thought I should check up on you now that you’re un-akumatized. Ladybug’s doing good, but he’s still new, so—” He shrugged. “It’s still my job.”

“Oh. Thanks.” And it was nice to hear that someone else thought he was worth checking on, even if it was just out of possible obligation. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. No Evillustrator tonight.”

“That’s good to hear! You really hit it off with Ladybug, huh? Or wait—you probably don’t remember much about that. I don’t know everything, but you and him talked—”

“No, I remember.” And Nathaniel bit his lip, hoping it was dark enough that it would hide the blush definitely creeping over his cheeks. It was embarrassing to think that he as a villain had kissed one of the city’s heroes, but at the same time . . . he kinda wanted to do it again. But Ladybug had seemed panicky last time they talked, which was strange. Nathaniel could only remember up to a point anyway, and that point was when his anger had started to rise. Well, besides the one other thing. “He’s . . . amazing.”

“Oh?” Chat Noir grinned mischievously. “Interesting.”

Nathaniel glanced downwards. “I don’t know what he thinks about me, though.”

“Well, if my knowledge of him is correct, I’d say that he likes you just about as much as you like him. At least, that’s what _my_ Ladybug’s hinted to me.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel thought about that for a moment. “But . . . why? I—I’ve been a villain this whole time! I’ve been akumatized every time we’ve met up! He knows I killed Chloe! How could he fall for someone like that . . . someone like me?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Love is funny like that.” 

And Nathaniel immediately understood. He’d seen the way the original Ladybug and Chat Noir had interacted, he’d seen the way that Chat always had Ladybug’s back. He’d seen it from the moment the first akuma arrived, and he was able to see through the advice and understand that Chat Noir loved the original Ladybug, even if she couldn’t see it herself.

“Yeah.” Nathaniel nodded, clasping his hands together. “I guess it is.”

They paused for a moment, neither boy speaking but both sharing some sort of quiet understanding. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to the artist, who was slightly mystified by the hero’s words. He wasn’t sure where he and Ladybug stood, not after the past two nights. They’d gone from kissing to fighting in less than twenty-four hours, and he knew that this couldn’t continue with him as the Evillustrator. God, he couldn’t wait until his companion’s identity was revealed and they could have an actual relationship.

“Well, I should go.” Chat Noir commented, swinging the end of his belt in one hand. “But good to see you’re doing better! Good luck with your crush, and I hope things work out.” 

“Thanks.” Nathaniel said, his heart not fully in it.

He winked, and then disappeared into the darkness.

Nathaniel turned from the spot where the feline hero had been, staring back out over the city. The lights seemed to blur and fade in his vision, finally causing him to realize that water was starting to form in his eyes. But he wasn’t crying, not intentionally, anyway. After searching through the tangle of thoughts that occupied his mind, left uninterrupted by any living soul, he came to a reasonable conclusion.

He hadn’t expected someone to take him seriously now, to treat him better than the way the whole school saw him. He hadn’t expected anyone to see past the things he’d done as a villain and talk to him like a peer. And he definitely hadn’t expected his feelings to seem reciprocated, to kiss the very person sent to defeat the personification of his negative emotions. But now it had been made a reality. He already sort of knew that of course, he’d known it the minute their lips touched, but now that an outside source was confirming it . . . it just felt more _real._

And he couldn’t wait for their relationship to become more than just a hero and a villain.

* * *

_Baby, tell me one more beautiful lie_   
_One touch and I ignite_

_-Ignite (K-391 and Alan Walker)_

* * *


End file.
